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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.^ 



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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



POEMS 



ON 



SCOTTISH AND AMERICAN SUBJECTS 



V 



%J^ 



.v^ 



JAMES KENNEDY. 



SECOND EDITION 



JUN 2 188 






WASHING 



NEW YORK : L. D. .^ J. A. ROBERTSON, €0 BARCLAY STREET. 
EDINBURGH AND GLASGOW: JOHN MENZIES & CO. 
LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & CO. 

1883. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1883, by James Kennedv, 
in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 



PEEFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 

In submitting this volume of compositions in verse to the 
consideration of his countrymen in America and the lovers of 
Scottish literature, the author takes the opportunity of stating 
to his many friends who have from time to time suggested to 
him the propriety of publishing a collection of his produc- 
tions in verse, that the apparent delay in not issuing such 
publication at an earlier date is not to be attributed to any 
fear of a lack of a proper appreciation and patronage of such 
work, but from the fact that in looking over the material in 
hand the author had doubts' as to whether much that had been 
written almost extemporaneously and on subjects of ephemeral 
interest were suitable for the more permanent position which 
a collection in book-form implies. 

The author has therefore endeavored to select only such 
pieces as would likely be of interest to the general reader, to 
whom he might further state that the chief object of these 
productions have been to reflect in some measure the feelings 
and experiences of the Scot in America. The aathor feels in 
common with all who have gone to a far country, that the 
love of our native land, like all loves, becomes more impas- 
sioned when separated from its object. He feels that time 
and distance only intensify the feeling, and the dear old 
land becomes more glorified, as mountains gather azure from 
distance. This feeling is not akin to one of discontent in the 
land of our adoption, enjoying as we do so much of the boun- 
tiful blessings of Providence, together with all that is highest 
and best in the acquired wisdom of the ages. 



iv PREFACE. 



We feel that neither absence nor interest nor new affec 
tions can take us wholly from our fatherland, but that, whether- 
we will or not, part of our spirit still seems to linger among 
the fair scenes of Caledonia. These, vivified by the memories 
of human associations that crowd upon us, come like the 
remembrance of lost but unforgotten loves, lending a sad, 
sweet pleasure to our lives, and these have been the main 
influences that have called into vocal utterance much that 
the author presents in this volume. 

It has not been, however, the single object of keeping green 
the memories of the fatherland that has acted as the only 
motive in the author's mind. He looks upon the stories of the 
lives and fortunes of the people who leave Scotland and seek 
their fortunes in America as being peculiarly suited for imagi- 
native treatment. There are no people more heroic. In the 
battle of life the burden of labor sits light upon them. They 
are self-reliant, and hence are marked by strong individuality, 
which gives rise to incident, which kindles imagination. 

That the author has not reached his ideal will only be too 
apparent, the only serious attempt being in "The Southron 
Cavalier," where he has endeavored to throw an air of chival- 
ric romance around the career of a young Scot in America. 
This composition, although written with much care, he pre- 
sents with much diffidence. He might claim that to him the 
Scottish dialect is the language of his heart, but he offers no 
excuse for attempting to write in English. If the author does 
not show a knowledge of English composition, it is because 
he has not taken full advantage of the educational facilities 
which America oJffers to the young men whose early opportu- 
nities for learning may have been limited. 



PREFACE. 



To those of his countrymen and others, many of whom 
are among the most distinguished citizens of America, who 
have done the author the kindness to order copies of the book 
in advance of its publication, he can only assure them that 
whatever little pleasure the perusal of its contents may afford 
them, it cannot equal the rare pleasure their encouragement 
has given him. The kind words that have come to him from 
near and far have already almost dispelled that diffidence 
which naturally arises in the mind in appearing in a new 
light before the public ; and he feels already, that having the 
approbation of those whom he esteems the most, he stands 
surrounded as by a phalanx, and the neglect of the indiiferent 
or the aspersions of the fault-finding critic cannot greatly 
disturb him. 

New York, March 24th, 1883. 



NOTE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 

In issuing a second edition the Author desires to express 
his gratitude for the warm interest manifested by his friends 
and countrymen in the work. But for their generous aid 
such rapid disposal of the first issue could not have been made. 

The Author had hoped that in the event of a second edition 
he would have taken the opportunity to add other composi- 
tions in verse to the volume, but he has not had time to finish 
any unpublished composition on hand, or collect other fugitive 
pieces worthy of a place in the volume. The book, however, 
already contains the best the Author has to offer, and perhaps 
it is better to remain as it is. 

New York, May 1st, 1883. 



CONTENTS. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS— 

PAGE 

To My Native Land, . . . . . n 

To THE Humming Bird, .... 13 

AuLD Scotia in the Field, . . , -15 

To THE Mosquitoes, . . . . 17 

Whisky 's Awa', . . . . • ^9 

NoRAN Water : An Idyl, .... 22 

Wee Charlie, .... . . 26 

To the Shade of Burns, . . . . 27 

Angus Rankin's Elegy, . . . .29 

The Southron Cavalier : 

Canto the First, .... 33 

Canto the Second, . . . -43 

Canto the Third, .... 53 

SONGS- 

The Bonnie Lass that 's far awa', . . -63 

Cam ye owre the Fulton Ferry ? . . 64 

O Mary, do ye mind the day? , . .66 

The Lassie's Song, ... - . 67 

Mary wi' the gowden hair, . . . .69 

Bonnie Noranside, ..... 7° 



Vlll 



CONTENTS. 



CHARACTER SKETCHES, ETC. 



Tam Anderson, .... 


• 75 


Donald Eraser, .... 


80 


The Droukit Peddler, . 


. 84 


The Inventor, .... 


86 


The Quoit-Players, 


. 89 


The Curler, ..... 


96 


Maister Young : An Elegy, 


• 99 


John 's Awa' : A Lament, 


102 


Lang Peter, : . . . 


. 104 


Jock Wabster, . . . ■ . 


107 


The Match-making Luckie, 


. no 


To W. B. S, : An Epistle, . 


114 


tiARKS ON the Scottish Language, 


. 116 


)SSARY, ...... 


117 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 







TO MY NATIVE LAND. 

Caledonia ! — brightest, rarest 

Gem that shin'st on earth or sea ; 

Lover-like, forever fairest 

Fancy paints thy charms to me. 

Day by day thy mem'ries haunt me, 
Rich in all things bright and rare ; 

Night by night sweet dreams enchant me 
Of tli}^ beauties fresh and fair ; 

And my spirit seems to wander, 
Ever joyous, fond and free, 

O'er thy hills whose purple grandeur 
Glows in king-like majesty ; 

Through thy glens that sweetly nourish 
Many a flower of bonnie bloom. 

Where the spinks and blue-bells flourish 
Bright among the brier's perfume ; 



rO MY NA TIVE LAND. 



Where the rowans hang like kistres 
Red within the shady dells ; 

And the sweet blaeberry clusters 
Blue among the heather-bells ; 

Where the laverock and the lintie 
Sing their lilts o' pure delight ; 

And the robin whistles canty 

To the w^arbling yellow- yite; 

Where the deeds o' martial glory 
Hallow ilka hill and dale ; 

Where the wild, romantic story 
Casts its charm o'er ilka vale : 

Where sweet Poesy pipes he^- numbers- 
Till the minstrels' airy dream 

Haunts the wild where Echo slumbers, 
Sings in ilka crystal stream ; 

Where true manhood dwells serenely 

Moulded in heroic grace, 
And fair virtue, meek but queenly 

Beams in woman's angel face. 

Thus to me thy memory giveth 

Joys that sweeten life's dull care ; 

Thus with me thy beauty liveth 
Like a presence ev'rywhere. 



TO THE HUMMING BIRD. 13 



And tlie years that pass but brighten 
All thy graces fak and free, 

As the moon-lit waters whiten 
On the dim and distant sea. 

So may thou dwell with me ever 

Through the ceaseless flow of years, 
Till the deep and dark Forever 

Ends my earthly hopes and fears- 
Then 't were happy, Caledonia, 

Aye to dwell serene in you^ 
Aye among the blythe and bonnie,- 

Aye among the tried and true. 



TO THE HUMMING BIRD. 

Braw birdie, when in brambly howes, 
Whaur mony a buss entangled grows, 
And bonnie flow'rs in beauty spring, 
I've seen thee fauld thy quivering wing, 
While rapt I stood, amazed to see 
The glowing hues that gleamed on thee — 
The red, the blue, the gowd, the green, 
The pearly gloss, the siller sheen ; 
Then quick ere yet the eager eye 
Had half perceived each dazzling dye, 
Awa' ye fluttered frae the sight. 
Like fire-flaucht in the cloud o' night. 



14 



TO THE HUMMING BIRD. 



Sic like 's when in tlie day's dull tlirang 
Time drags tlie weary hours alang; 
Bright fancy flashes on the mind 

Some bonnie blink o' wondrous kind — 

* 

"Wild glens wi' burnies bick'rin doun, 
Far frae the stoury, noisy toun ; 
Green woods an' sweet secluded dells, 
Whaur silence aye serenely dwells ; 
Fond faces — rare auld warks an' ways 
That graced the light o' ither days — 
Come sudden on th' enraptured view, 
Then vanish in a blink — like you. 

But speed thee on thy fairy flight, 
Whaur sweetest blossoms tempt thy sight ; 
An' round thee may ilk gladsome thing 
Light as the flaffer o' thy wing 
Aye keep thee blythe, nor aught e'er mar 
The bonnie, braw, wee thing ye are. 
Owre joyed am I when happy chance 
But brings thee in a passing glance. 

Thus come, O Poesy! grace divine I 
Come wi' that kindling fire o' thine, 
That lends the dull imaginings 
The beauties of a thousand things ; 
And though thy flashing fancies flit, 
Like this wee birdie's restless fit. 
Thy briefest glint shall grandly glow 
As bright as Iris' radiant bow. 



AULD SCOTIA IN THE FIELD. 15 



AULD SCOTIA IN THE FIELD. 

'Twas summer, and green earth's fair face 
Was wreathed in vernal bloom; 

Each dewy flow'ret lent its grace 
And shed its sweet perfume. 

The bright birds in the shady groves, 

On ev'ry bush and tree, 
Sang sweetly to their list'ning loves 

Their songs of melody. 

And from the city's busy throng 

Went forth a joyous band, 
To swell the universal song 

That echoed through the land. 

And deep within a shady wood 

Joy held its sylvan court ; 
And thither thronged the multitude 

To witness manly sport. 

Again we joyed to sally forth 

In tartan's plumed array ; 
Wild music of our native North, 

Inspiring, led the way ; 



1 6 AULD SCOTIA IN THE FIELD. 

And Scottish banners waved above 

The heads of Scottish men, 
As if the Pennsylvanian grove 

Were Caledonian glen. 

Nor wanted there as brawny arms 

As erst in days of yore 
"Were nobly raised in war's alarms 

For old green Albyn's shore, 

And won that glory which has given 

A halo brightly thrown 
Around her as a gleam from heaven — 

A glory all her own. 

And mem'ries thronged till bright there seem'd 
Beneath fair Freedom's sun — 

Columbia's — Scotia's lustre gleam'd. 
And spread their lights in one. 

Thus ever may they seem to shine, 
Homes of the brave and free. 

Upholding manhood's right divine 
Of God-like liberty; 

And buoyant on the wings of fame, 

Till Nature's destined plan 
In thunder voices loud proclaim 

The brotherhood of man. 



ADDRESS TO THE MOSQUITOES. 



17 



ADDEESS TO THE MOSQUITOES. 

Lang-nebbit, bizzin, bitin' wretches, 

That fire my skin wi' blobs an' splatches ; 

Till vex'd wi' yeukie claws an' scratches, 

I think I'm free 
To say the warld has seen few matches 

To Job an' me. 

Sae aft you've gar't me fret an' fume, 
My vera sjDirit ye consume 
Wi' everlasting martyrdom — 

Ye wicked tartars, 
You've surely settled on my room 

For your headquarters! 

Asleep or wauken, air or late, 
Like Nick himsel' ye are na blate; 
But like the doom o' pendin' fate 

Aboon my head, 
Ye keep me in a waefu' state 

O' quakin' dread. 

Whiles like a fury I've been stan'in'. 
An' clos'd my mou to keep frae bannin, 
Whiles some destructive scheme I'm planniu' 

Your race to scatter — 
O could I ram ye in a cannon. 

An' then lat blatter! 



1 8 ADDRESS TO THE MOSQUITOES. 

When pensive in my fav'rite neuk, 
I glow'r owre some auld-f arrant beuk, 
Like leeches then my bluid ye sook, 

Then bizz and flee ; 
An' then begins th' infernal yeuk 

That angers me. 

When lost in mazy contemplation 
And soars supreme imagination, 
How aft on fancy's fair creation 

The curtain draps ; 
Ye bizz, an' blinks o' inspiration 

At ance collapse ! 

O would some towsie-headed tyke, 
Wha strives to make some new bit fyke, 
Invent a plan to sweep your byke 

Frae human dwallins, 
I'd sing his praise as heigh's ye like 

In braw, braid ballan's. 

But fix'd ye are 'mang human ills — 
Whose bitter cup your bitin' fills ; 
Nor auld wives' cures nor doctors' bills 

Can mend the case — 
Eirm as the everlasting hills 
^ Ye keej) your place. 



WHISKY'S AW A' 



19 



But could I gain some grace or ither, 
To teach me in ilk warslin swither, 
To tak the guid an' ill thegither 

Without complaint, 
Then might we dwell wi' ane anither 

In calm content. 

But sae it is, — ye maun hae food. 

An' I maun guard my ain heart's bluid; 

But could 3^e scrape a livelihood 

Some ither where, 
I would be yours in gratitude 

For evermair. 



WHISKY'S AWA' ! 

What news is this? I speer fu' fain. 
Is this some joke o' th' printer's ain? 
Na faith, it's truth that he's been say'n* 

They've pass'd a law 
Through Pennsylvania, dale an' plain — 

Whisky's awa' ! 

Weel might a pride light ilka eye, ' 
An' ilk ane haud their head fu' high, 
An' celebrate their Fourth July 

Wi' mirth an' a'. 
An' roar o' cannon^ rend the sky — 

Whisky's awa' ! 



20 WHISKT S AWA' . 



Lang has it been your pridefu' boast, 
What time the tyrant British host 
Departed, like a frighted ghost, 

At Freedom's craw ; 
A deadlier fae has left your coast — 

Whisky's awa' ! 

Nae mair the drunkard's raggit bairns, 
Like misers, live on scraps an' parin's, 
An' gloomy jails, whase rusty aims 

Fulfill the law, 
May tumble down in shapeless cairns — 

Whisky's awa' ! 

Good Templars now, an' bad anes baith, 
May cast aside their glitt'rin' graith; 
Nor need they paint vile whisky's scaith 

As black's a craw, 
Nor sign the pledge, nor tak the aith — 

Whisky's awa' ! 

Bejoice ilk mither — sorrow now 
Need never cloud your anxious brow. 
Ye lasses, when ye mak your vow. 

Let hopes ne'er fa' — 
Your lads, like steel, will aye stand true — 

Whisky's awa' ! 



WHISKY S A IV A ' / 21 



If sultry weather should prevail, 

To slocken drouth nae ane need fail: 

There's caller cronk an' ginger ale, 

Or, best o' a'. 
In Susquehanna dip your pail — 

AVhisky's awa' ! 

O caller water ! gowd or gear 
Compared wi' thee maun tak the rear ; 
Thou never garr'd the bitter tear 

O' mis'ry fa' ! 
Pure be th}^ fountain evermair — 

Whisky's awa' ! 

Now Peace, wi' Plenty on its wing. 
Contentment's sweets may swiftly bring, 
An' Truth stand up, an' Virtue spring 

As pure as snaw ! 
While Universal Joy doth sing, 

Whisky's awa' ! 



22 NORAN WATER. 



NORAN WATER: AN IDYL. 

I stood where Erie's waters flow 

O'er steep Niag'ra's awful brink, 
And watcli'd where to the depths below 

The mighty torrents fold and sink ; 
And as my senses seemed to swim, 

And quicker beat my throbbing heart, 
The sounding waters sang their hymn. 

More grand than music's measured art. 

And I have sailed upon the flood 

That lave's Manhattan's busy shore, 
By tangled brake and dark-green wood, — 

By beetling crags moss-grown and hoar, — 
By cultured fields where graceful bends 

The maize's yellow-crested stalk ; 
And where, to swell her tide, descends 

The waters of the dark Mohawk. 

And I have gazed with joy untold 

Where through Wyoming's valley green 
The noble Susquehanna roll'd 

In stately majesty serene : 
While pure as that unclouded day. 

Far seen in azure skies profound. 
The magic of a poet's lay 

Made all the scene seem hallowed ground. 



NOR AN WATER. 25 



But these, though happy thoughts they bring, 

When clear upon the memory's eye 
They glow in bright imagining 

As vivid as reality ; 
Yet dearer memories fondly forth 

Come linked with Noran's crystal stream^ 
That, bright as in its native North, 

Oft sparkles in my fancy's dream. 

O Noran! how I see thee dance 

By heath-clad hills alone, unseen, 
Save where the lonely eagle's glance 

Surveys thee from his crag serene- 
Forever joyous thou dost seem. 

Still sportive as a child at play. 
Who, lost in pleasure's careless dream,. 

Makes merry music all the day. 

By fairy nooks I see thee flow. 

Nor pausing in thy artless song 
Till where the fir trees sj)reading low 

Obscure thy stream tlieu' arms among. 
There, sweet amid the shady gloom, 

Thou hear'st the blackbird chant his lay, 
Thou see'st the pale primroses bloom. 

And silent ling'rest on thy way! 



24 NORAN WATER. 



Then forth thy waters dazzHng come 

Where sweet-brier scents the balmy breeze, 
And where the wild bees softly hum 

Faint echo of thy harmonies. 
Green spiky gorse thy banks adorn, 

Gold-tassell'd broom thy fringe-work weave,. 
While feathered choirs from dewy morn 

Make melody till dewy eve. 

Then, foaming in fantastic flakes, 

Thou dashest down a deep ravine, 
Where overhanging wild-wood makes 

A canopy of leafy green. 
While sweet as when cathedral naves 

Are filled with voices grave and gay. 
Soft echoes from their hidden caves 

Kepeat thy rir^ging roundelay. 

Then eddying deep by flowery dells, 

Or babbling on by clovery lea. 
Thou glittering glid'st, while crystal bells 

Of diamond lustre dance on thee, 
And happy children's eager eye 

Pursues them, or with tiny hands 
Collect the pearly shells that lie 

Begemming bright thy silvery sands.. 



NOR AN WA TER. 



25 



Then on by pleasant farms that breathe 

Of calm contentment's happy cHme ; 
Or laughing- where the ivy's wreath 

Clings round the ruins of olden time. 
And on where stately mansions rise, 

Or lowly gleams the cottage hearth r 
Unchanged thy smile still meets the skies, 

Unchanged still rings thy song of mirth. 

Till like a maid whose bridal morn 

Beholds her decked to meet her love, 
Thou com'st where gayest flowers adorn, 

And sweetest warblers charm the grove; 
And mingling with the Esk's clear stream, 

In fond embrace he claspeth thee, 
And smiling 'neath the sunny beam, 

Rolls grandly to the German Sea. 

O Noran! bright thy memory brings 

My careless boyhood back to me. 
When ardent hope on fancy's wings 

Beheld life's future gleam like thee. 
But though life's path be dull and straiige, 

And rare the promised joys I meet. 
In thee I have, through time and change, 

One golden memory ever sweet! 



26 ^£E CHARLIE. 



WEE CHARLIE. 

*• I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me."— II Samuel, 12th c, 23d v» 

O gin my heart could hae its wiss 

Within this weary warld o' care, 
I'd ask nae glow o' balmy bliss 

To dwell around me evermair. 
For joy were mine beyond compare, 

An' O how happy would I be, 
If Heaven would grant my earnest prayer, 

An' bring wee Charlie back to me. 

He cam' like sunshine when the buds 

Burst into blossoms sweet and gay, 
He dwelt like sunshine when the cluds 

Ai-e vanish'd frae the eye o' day. 
He pass'd as daylight fades away. 

An' darkness spreads owre land an' sear 
Nae wonder though in grief I pray, 

O bring wee Charlie back to me. 

When Pleasure brings her hollow joys. 

Or Mirth awakes at Friendship's ca'. 
Or Art her varied power employs 

To mak dull Time look blithe an' braw. 
How feckless seem they ane an' a' 

When sad Remembrance dims my e'e, — 
O tak thae idle joys awa' 

An' bring wee Charlie back to me. 



TO THE SHADE OF BURNS. 2 J 

But vain's the cry; he maunna cross 

Frae where he dwells in bliss unseen, 
Nor need I mourn my waefu' loss, 

Nor muse on joys that might hae been. 
When cauld death comes to close my een, 

Awa' beyond life's troublous sea, 
In everlasting joy serene, 

They'll bring wee Charlie back to me. 



TO THE SHADE OF BUKNS, 

ON THE OCCASION OF UNVEILING A STATUE TO HIS MEMORY 
IN CENTRAL PARK, NEW YORK. 

Bright spirit, whose transcendant song 
Hath charmed earth's utmost bound, 

Till from her solitudes among 

Comes ringing back the sound. 

Come where the wild Atlantic waves 
Have hush'd their ceaseless roar, 

And, softly as a zephyr, laves 
Manhattan's busy shore. 

See where the thronging thousands stand 

In reverence to thee ; 
The witching charm, — the magic wand, — 

Thy matchless minstrelsy ! 



28 TO THE SHADE OF BURNS. 

They see in monumental bronze 

Thy manly form and face ; 
They hear in music's sweetest tones 

Thy spirit's grander grace. 

And though from many lands they came, 
To brotherhood they've grown, 

By thee their pulses throb the same. 
Their hearts are all thy own. 

And we whose childhood's home was thine, 
What joy thy memory brings ! 

To us thou seem'st as more divine 
Than earth-created things. 

For all youth's fairy scenes and glee, 
Loves, hojDes and fancies fain, 

In Poesy's art illumed by thee, 
Come back to us again ; 

And past and present all appear 

Transfigured by thy grace. 
Till Hoj^e points where in grander sphere 

We'll meet thee face to face. 



ANGUS RANKIN'S ELEGY. 



29 



ANGUS KANKIN'S ELEGY. 

O brither Scots wliaure'er ye be, 
That lo'e auld Scotland's melodie, 
Come join my wail wi' tearfu' e'e 

An' hearts that bleed, 
An' sad an' lanely mourn wi' me 

For him that's dead! 

Now silence haunts baith house an' ha' 
Sin' Angus Rankin's worn awa'; 
He wha sae sweetly aye could blaw 

The tunefu' reed, 
The sweetest minstrel o' them a' — 

Alas ! he's dead ! 

O sirs! what glowing pictures tlirang 
In memory's treasured joys amang, 
Whaur blythely aye his chanter rang, 

A tunefu' skreed. 
In warbled numbers loud an' lang — 

But Rankin's dead ! 

How aft his sweet, inspiring strain 
Wing'd Fancy owre the dark blue main, 
Till heathery hill, an' grassy plain. 

An' daisied mead, 
Came fresh on memory's e'e again — 

But Rankin's dead! 



30 



ANGUS RANKIN'S ELEGY. 



An' aft by some Columbian dell, 
In woody grove or breezy fell, 
His art divine threw sic a spell — 

It seemed indeed 
The veiy grund was Scotland's sel' — 

But Kankin's dead! 

When Hallowe'en or blithe New Year, 
Or auld Saint Andrew's Day drew near, 
His pipes aye I'oused sic social cheer — 

Fowk took nae heed, 
But danc'd till they could hardly steer — 

But Kankin's dead! 

When kilted Scots made grand parade, 
In bonnets blue an' belted plaid, 
Wi' what triumphant, martial tread 

He took the lead! 
Heroic graces round him spread — 

But now he's dead! 

Ilk clansman mark'd his manly air. 
His modest mien an' form sae fair. 
The eagle eye, the raven hair 

That graced his head: 
Alas! he'll cheer their hearts nae mair — 

For Kankin's dead! 



ANGUS RANKIN'S ELEGY. 



31 



When athletes mustered on the green, 
An' feats o' strength an' skill were seen, 
"What rousing blasts he blew between, 

An' pibroch's skreecl ! 
He was th' Apollo o' the scene — 

But Kankin's dead! 

When dancers danced the Highland Fling, 
How Angus made the welkin ring! 
Till tune an' time an' ilka thing 

Sae fired the head. 
That nimble feet amaist took wing — 

But Rankin's dead ! 

Though fortune's wrang he whiles did bear it, 
Nae spite nor envy gnawed his spirit ; 
But keen to praise another's merit 

An' wish them speed ; 
Rare gifts o' grace he did inherit — 

But Rankin's dead! 

But weak's my muse to chant his praise, 
Weel worthy o' mair lofty lays ; 
But in the light o' future days, 

AVi' pensive heed, 
I'll muse upon the kindly ways 

O' him that's dead! 



32 ANGUS RANKIN'S ELEGY. 

An' aft when some soul-stirring tune 
Rings blithe as birds in joyfu' June, 
I'll think his spirit frae abune 

Inspires the reed, 
Or else my dancing da3^s were dune 

Sin' Rankin's dead! 

•Come pipers, ye wha lo'ed him weel, 
Come Cleland, famed for blithesome reel; 
Come Grant an' Laurie, true as steel — 

An' Peter Reid, 
Come blaw some weird an' wild fareweel 

For Angus dead! 

Come Music frae thy starry sphere, 
Come mourn thy loss amang us here, 
Gar Fame gae sound her trumpet clear, 

Till a' tak' heed. 
An' mournfu' drap a kindly tear 

For Rankin dead! 



THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 



33 



THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER: 

A ROMANCE OF THE AMERICAN REBELLION. 

INSCRIBED TO PROF. ALEX. J. C. SKENE, M.T>., BROOKLYN. 

CANTO THE FIRST. 
I. 
'T was evening, and a festal hall 

Re-echoed with a joyous throng ; 
And Charleston held high carnival, 

And merry dance and swelling song 
Alternate did their powers prolong; 

While Carolina's opal sk}^ 
Serenely glanced her stars among 

Like sparkles of a laughing eye. 

II. 

And, stranger to that sunny land, 

I reck'd not of the how or why ; 
Secession's rudely rampant hand 

Seemed peaceful to my youthful eye, 
For pleasure hailed its birth, and I, 

All free as is the ambient air, 
Responded, and a spirit high 

Spread wildlj^ joyous ev'ry where. 



34 



THE SOUTHRON CA VALIER. 



III. 
And beauty's circle saw me then 

Gay as a bird of wanton wing, 
That lightly flits and comes again 

Rejoicing in the voice of Spring ; 
Nor sad note dulls its carolling, 

Nor grove alluring checks its flight ; 
But, buoyant as an airy thing, 

Still flutters in the eye of light. 

IV. 

'T was then amid the brilliant throng 

The sunlight of a beauteous face 
Shone as a meteor shines among 

The planets in its fiery race ; 
And matchless mien and maiden grace 

Dwelt round a form so pure and fair,- 
That there all beauty found a place. 

All rare perfections mingled there. 

V. 

We met, we mingled in the dance ; 

And while she tripp'd on fair}' feet, 
Her artless words, her evry glance 

Glowed innocently-exquisite ; 
And swift did winged moments fleet 

Unnoticed, till like fading day, — 
Ethereal, — evanescent, — sweet 

And lingeringly she passed away. 



THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 35 



VI. 



Then o'er my being stole that sense 

Which youth's prime passion only knows ; 
While fancy shadowing forth intense 

An ever-beauteous image throws 
Athwart the soul, which comes and goes 

Like ripples on a lakelet's breast; 
And breaks upon the mind's repose 

A joyless joy, a calm unrest. 

VII. 

But anxious days with fruitless schemes 

Brought not that peerless face again; 
And weary nights and idle dreams 

Passed o'er me and my hopes in vain. 
But, siren-like, fond fancy fain 

Lured expectation fondly forth. 
Till like a frenzy in the brain 

All else were but as little worth. 

VIII. 

My life has been but as the stream 

Which dashes down the mountain side, 
Nor lingereth it in soft sunbeam 

Nor shady forest waving wide. 
Till where adown the vale doth glide 

Some gentle river calm and deep ; 
There the wild torrent curbs its pride, 

There placidly it seems to sleep. 



^e THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 

IX. 

So paused my life's course, and the hours 

Unheeded o'er me passed away 
Till Spring-time with its wreath of flowers 

Bloomed in the fragrant breath of Mayj 
And Nature sang her roundelay 

By woody wild and grassy grove ; 
And all was bright and pure and gay 

And sweet as lovers' dreams of love. 

X. 

And from the busy city's throng 

Went gaily forth a joyous band, 
To swell the universal song 

That echoed gladly through the land; 
And manly sport ruled hand in hand 

With varied pleasures' softer sway, 
While svvift-wing'd joy with magic wand 

Soon sped our happy holiday. 

XI. 

And evening came — the golden hour 

When earth seems meet for purer things 
Than man, self-lost in pride of power. 

Or tossed on vain imaginings. 
Then soared my soul on buoyant wings 

When wandering through the sylvan shades^ 
All silent save the murmurings 

Of brooklets babbling down the glades. 



THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 37 

XII. 
The dark'ning twiliglit's silvery haze 

Hang dream-like round the distant woods ; 
The sinking sun with sapphire blaze 

Lit up the higher solitudes. 
E'en still my fancy fondly broods 

O'er all the oft-remembered scene 
That rose o'er all my darker moods 

As radiant rainbows rise serene. 

XIII. 

For in the leafy brake's embrace 

There stood love's fondly cherish'd dream 
In sudden form, and face to face 

The idol of my life did seem 
Bright as the star whose guiding gleam 

The wearied mariner's watchful eyes 
Have found amid the wild extreme 

Of surging seas and scowling skies. 

XIV. 

But ne'er can tongue in words express 

Th' ecstatic joy — the fervid flame — 
The awe that checkd each fond excess, 

As if seraphic-like she came ; 
While ev'ry feeling seem'd to frame 

Dae homage to a thing divine, 
And all around me breath'd the same 

As if great Nature's heart was mine. 



38 



THE SOUTHRON CA VALIER. 



XV. 

A moment her ethereal eyes 

Beamed on me with their lustre bright, 
While dear remembrance — coy surj)rise 

Gleam'd sweetly through like light on light, 
Then quench'd their fire, as stars at night 

Are lost in cloudlets, — pure as in 
The marble statue's eyelid's white 

That seem to A^eil a god within. 

XVI. 

But in that glance methought I read 

A kindred feeling fond and true, — 
A young heart's yearning, fancy-fed. 

Where maiden love in silence grew \ 
And though she spoke not, fancy drew 

A sweeter language from those eyes 
Than happy lover ever knew 

From lover's ruby lips to rise. 

XVII. 

Impassioned were the words that breathed 

My sudden transport swelling high ; 
While tender as the leaves that wreathed 

Around her were each low reply; 
That, modest as the downcast eye. 

But half revealed the burning beam 
That glowed in softest sympathy 

Ineffable as youth's fond dream. 



THE SOUTHRON CA VALIER. 



39 



XVIII. 

But needless were it to relate 

Eacli heavenly joy my heart then knew, 
When from my ravish'd soul elate 

The long, dull, darken'd night withdrew, 
And love's celestial sun shone through, 

More bright than aught my hopes had known, 
For earth seemed tinged with heaven's own hue, 

And all I loved seemed all my own. 

XIX. 

Swift- winged moments, — transport lost, — 

How soon — too soon ye passed away ! 
And left me, wildly tempest-tossed. 

To ev'ry varying thought a prey. 
Ye sweetly shone as doth the ray 

Whose brief illusion mocks in vain 
The darkness of an April day, 

When gathering clouds grow dark again. 

XX. 

For on our joy rude voices broke 

Tumultuous as a stormy sea ; 
An angry father fuming spoke. 

An irate lover frown'd on me 
And breath'd of vengeance, as if he 

Some sudden, ruinous wrong had known. 
In vain I spoke, and vainly she 

Wept as they left me all alone, — 



40 THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 



XXI. 

Lone as tlie wretcli whose dungeon walls 

Are broken by some sudden might, 
And hears a cheering voice that calls 

Him forth to freedom and to light : 
When scarce o'er his enraptured sight 

The bright earth's glowing glories rise: 
When sudden horrors 'whelm him quite, 

And double darkness seals his eyes. 

XXII. 

But 't was not mine to idly pine, 

Though favoring fortune seem'd afar. 
I knew her heart was wholly mine. 

And hope, that shineth as a star 
Through skies that overclouded are, 

Beam'd brightly still ; and life's strange course 
Glides fitly on, while every bar 

Oft seemeth but a quickening source. 

XXIII. 

And mine was quickened, and my heart 

Beat with the daring fire that warms 
To higher things each nobler part ; 

And when war's rudely wild alarms 
Had roused the fiery South to arms 

A gleam shot through fate's frowning sky, 
Bright as the breaking beam that charms 

The dull earth, like an open'd eye. 



THE SOUTHRON CA VALIER. ^ j 



XXIV. 

I stood within the long-sought home 

Of her I loved so fond and true. 
Not as her father's guest I'd come; 

Nor wayward, rudely breaking through 
His sovereign will; but well I knew 

If e'er I hoped with deeds to show 
A heart where noble virtues grew, 

Occasion loudly bade me go. 

XXV. 

For stern as death a summons went 

To call fair Clara's father forth 
To join the ranks the city sent 

To battle with th' invading North. 
And youth's fond fire and valor's worth 

Self-sacrificing burned in me; 
And feeliugs that from love have birth 

Soon blossom to maturity. 

XXVI. 

I told him how I loved his child — 

How for her sake I chose to o-o 
And meet war's rugged dangers wild, 

That she, sweet soul, might never know 
The anxious care, the tearful woe 

That mourns an absent father lost 
In conflict with the furious foe 

Amid the deep ensanguined host. 



4 2 THE SO UTHR ON CA VA LIER. 

XXVII. 

Amazed, he utter'd not reply ; 

Strange silence sealed his lips as though 
A frowning cloud broke in the sky, 

And lurid lightning flash'd below 
While crashing thunders come and go. 

So broke I — sudden — sullen — lone ; 
So flash'd my fiery purpose so, 

And — thunder-like — spoke, and was gone. 

XXVIII. 

Gone — mingling in the martial hum 

Of mustering armies, — vainly proud ; 
Gone where the rolling of the drum 

Was silenced 'neath the battle cloud, 
Where rang tumultuous clamors loud, 

While deep-dyed slaughter spreading o'er, 
Swathed in a universal shroud 

The conquered and the conqueror. 



THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 



43 



CANTO THE SECOND. 
I. 
While she, — the loved, — in aftertime 

I only learn'd with sad surprise. 
That with the ardor of her clime, 

That burns beneath the Southern skies, 
Ere friend or lover might surmise, 

She, passion-driven or hate-inspired, 
Evanish'd from their watchful eyes, — 

Fair innocency frenzy-fired. 

II. 

Nor knew they how, nor wist they where, — 

Her hopes, her fears alike unknown, 
Fled as a wild-bird wing'd in air 

That from its gilded cage has flown. 
Nor had her mystery clearer grown 

When round the year's revolving time 
Brought summer back, and, battle-blown, 

I stood in Pennsylvania's clime. 



44 THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 

III. 

Fair land, when thy ambrosial glades 

And wooded hills first met my eyes, 
September's breath had touch'd thy shades 

With all the rainbow's varied dyes. 
On memory's page fair scenes arise 

Where Nature's beauties all combine; 
But 'neath thy bright autumnal skies, 

I know no scenes o'ermatching thine. 

IV. 

Thy hills though not like Alpine steep, 

Crown'd with its everlasting snows, 
Thy cliffs hang o'er no foaming deep, 

Yet fairer beauties they disclose ; 
Hush'd solitude enchantment throws 

Around each fair, romantic scene, 
And the enraptured S2:)irit grows 

In soft resemblance, all serene. 

V. 

From blood-stained fields of war we came, 

A furious and a desp'rate band, 
To s^^read destruction's wasting flame 

Impetuous o'er the peaceful land. 
We smote with unrelenting hand ; 

Ours was the roving, plundering horde 
That heeds no voice but war's command. 

Makes no dispute but with the sword. 



THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 45 



VI. 

And on Virginia's war-worn soil 

Had triumph crown'd our conquering arms ; 
And days of battle, nights of toil 

Inured us to the rude alarms 
That dim the sheen of glory's charms 

And petrify the soldier's heart, 
Till kindly pity never warms 

Each feeling fix'd as sculptured art. 

VII. 

The glowing sun sank softly down. 

We reach'd the summit of a hill 
That overlook'd a little town, 

And murmurs like a distant rill 
Fell on the ear ; all else was still, 

Save where at times the answering neigh 
Of war-steeds echoed loud and shrill, 

Like wild war's ringing reveille. 

VIII. 

I linger' d, though I knew not why ; 

The scene was placid, soft and fair. 
And golden clouds hung in the sky, 

And dreamy stillness filled the air. 
A mellow richness ev'rywhere 

Spread lavish to the longing gaze ; 
Aud fanc}^ wander'd here and there 

Calm as the twilight's gathering haze. 



46 THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 

IX. 

Afar two streamlets seem'd to glide, 

With little space of woods between, 
And then, diverging, seem'd to hide 

Their channels in the thick'ning green ; 
Again emerging each was seen 

Approaching where in fond embrace 
They met, and flowing on serene 

Sought Ocean for their resting place. 

X. 

And hope illum'd by fancy's ray, 

"While mem'ry shadow'd forth the past, 
In tone prophetic seem'd to say — 

Thus will the shades that overcast 
Thy hapless love dispel at last ; 

And like the streamlets flowing free 
Adown life's vale united fast 

Glide on toward eternity. 

XI. 

O could we know how vain the dreams 

Imagination fondly paints ! 
The hollowness that glitt'ring gleams 

Around the future's grand events ; 
The balm that soothes our discontents. 

The hope that bids us bravely bear, 
Are oft but fitful, frail restraints 

That keep us from a dull despair. 



THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 47 



XII. 

How oft when hope's serenest skies 

O'er life's dim pathway seems to spread, 
Unseen some sullen storm-clouds rise 

And break disastrous overhead ; 
And where the mind's eye, — fancy fed, 

Beheld the future's shining* path, 
Stern truth but sees in awful dread 

Sad traces of the tempest's wrath. 

XIII. 

So was it as I idly dreamed. 

And o'er and o'er that landscape viewed; 
While soul and sylvan beauty seemed 

To one incorporate same subdued; 
A ruthless hand, that had pursued 

Through weary days my hapless life, 
Hung vengeful o'er me, — hate-imbued. 

By baffled love, — to mortal strife. 

XIV. 

And sudden there a bolt of death 

From that stern hand had stunn'd my brain 
And nearly stayed my ebbing breath ; . 

I, swooning, fell in piercing pain, 
My hand relaxed the bridle rein, 

A dizzy stupor o'er each sense 
Rush'd flood-like, as the angry main 

Sweeps o'er the lone wreck's impotence. 



48 THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 

XV. 

And when again my wearied eyes 

With light rekimed went wandering wide,. 
They fell not on the earth and skies 

Arrayed in autumn's golden pride: 
A gray-haired senior by my side 

Bent with his kind face on me turned ; 
Indistinct shadows seemed to glide, 

A flick'ring taper faintly burned. 

XVI. 

Full oft through weary days that face 

Beam'd like an angel's, kind and sweet, 
And gave my sorrow ev'n a grace 

Ail-delicately exquisite, 
As when the wintry sunbeams greet 

In brighten'd radiance, sparkling free, 
Where late the storm tempestuous beat 

With sudden force all furiously. 

XVII. 

He too had spent life's early days 

By Caledonia's wooded wild ; 
And lov'd to tell her storied praise 

And old romances grandly piled ; 
Enthusiastic as a child. 

His sympathetic soul would glow 
With all the fire that wont to gild 

Chivalrous spirits long ago. 



THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 49 



XVIII. 

In all with reverent eye lie saw 

The hands omnipotent that guide 
The universe by certain law 

Where Destiny and Fate preside ; 
And all the ever-jarring tide 

Of conflict, he but deemed the springs 
Whose purifying powers divide 

The golden truth from grosser things. 

XIX. 

He, skilfully, would venture o'er 

Discussion's sea where tempest-tossed 
Frail barks on venturing from the shore 

Were oft in wild opinion lost : 
Not his the blustering braggart's boast, 

But gathering wisdom from the past, 
Portrayed with master skill the coast 

And peaceful havens reach'd at last. 

XX. 

Still gathering fervor as he passed 

From point to point, he wisely brought 
Premises to conclusions fast 

That proud Oppression's power is nought 
Her conquests ever dearly bought 

Were fleeting as a passing breath, 
While Freedom's arm triumphant fought 

And won an everlasting wreath. 



JO THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 



XXI. 

Discoursing thus, days rolled apace 

Till Spring-time with its wreath of flowera 
Clasped Nature in her fond embrace, 

And decked again the sylvan bowers, 
Where pensive oft the silent hours 

Would find me musing sad and strange. 
Contemplating the varied powers 

That bring the slow result of change. 

XXII. 

The autumn leaves lay damp and dead 

Around the freshly budding stem ^ 
And in my heart and in my head 

A ray of sad resemblance came: 
As withered leaves, so hopes like them 

Lay strewn bedewed with silent tears ; 
While new ideas seemed to frame 

Fresh prospects for the coming years. 

XXIII. 

Still here and there to boughs there clung 

Some leaves, nor stormy winter's blast 
Nor Time's decay had earthward wrung, — 

Sad relics of a blooming past: 
Like them, all lifeless, clinging fast 

To me were thoughts of that sweet face. 
Which, like a far-off beacon, cast 

A radiance through the darkening space. 



THE SOUTHRON CA VALIER. 



51 



XXIV. 

I loved her still, but deatli-like cold 

And statue-like my love had grown. 
No gilded future then could hold 

My idle fancy all its own. 
Illusions one by one had flown 

Till resignation calmly viewed 
Each vanish'd hoj)9 m}^ heart had known 

Like youth's fond dreams by age subdued. 

XXV. 

But when successive gales have torn 

A lonely tree, and Summer's bloom 
Sees but a wither'd trunk forlorn 

And leafless cast a saddening gloom; 
As pitying misfortune's doom 

Mayhap the ivy's clustering wreath 
Twines round it fresh as honor's plume 

Upon the barren brows of death. 

xxvi. 
So round my wither'd hopes there grew, 

Fresh as the ivy's rustling leaves, 
A faith in Freedom strong and true 

Wherein prophetic fancy weaves 
A golden future which receives 

In simple trust kind Natilre's plan, 
Wlien long-obstructed truth achieves 

The common brotherhood of man. 



52 THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 



XXVII. 

Then those rude dangers I had braved 

Seem'd in my new-form'd faith to be 
Vain efforts that a race enslaved, 

Whose heav'n-born right was to be free, 
Might taste not of sweet hberty, 

And, feeling as the guilty feel, 
I cast my former self from me 

With all a convert's fiery zeal. 

XXVIII. 

And Summer saw th' embattled field 

Receive me in its ranks again; 
Not bold Secession's sword to wield 

Upholding Slavery's cursed reign, 
But leagued for Union, to maintain 

That sacred shrine of Liberty ; 
And break Oppression's galling chain 

And set the giadden'd captive free. 



THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER, 



53 



CANTO THE THIRD. , 
I. 
Again the tide of battle flowed 

Through Pennsylvania's peaceful land; 
And Southron arms victorious glowed 

In wild Rebellion's daring hand. 
Then Valor's fires were fiercely fanned ; 

Then sent the North from near and far 
In haste full many a loyal band 

Embattled in the ranks of war. 

II. 

And when the crash of conflict came 

The dawn beheld us where afar 
"We w^atch'd wdiere smoke and bursting flame 

Gave signal of the open'd w^ar. 
Lioud rang the wild discordant jar, 

Bright shone the moving flash of arms ; 
While Carnage drove her crimson car 

In fury 'mid the wild alarms. 



54 THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 



III. 

The Soutlarons charge — a wave of fire ! 

The Northerns stand — a wall of steel! 
Harsh swells the awful tumult, higher 

Than echomg thunder's lengthened peal ! 
Backward the charging columns reel 

As waves that from an angry main 
Strike rocky shores, then shatter'd wheel 

In broken fragments back again. 

IV. 

And scarce had closed the fierce attack 

When sudden hands on me were laid; 
Some Southron soldiers dragg'd me back 

A vilely-branded renegade. 
Nor Law's strong arm was then delayed 

And Pity prayed nor for delay; 
Force held me fast while Judgment said 

Next morn would be my dying day. 

V. 

Alone within the guarded tent 

I waited for the hour of doom, 
While ghost-like memories came and went 

Like sad-eyed mourners round a tomb, 
And far-off fancies' faded bloom 

Lit up the sad sej^ulchral show, 
As when at evening's gathering gloom 

The distant cloudlets faintly glow. 



THE S0U7HR0N CAP\ALIER r- 



VI. 

And her I loved supreme o er all 

Seemed present with me, though unseen. 
Her spirit held me as a thrall 

As if her slave niy soul had been. 
And does she mark this closing scene? 

I questioned, in my mute despair. 
And does her soul from realms serene 

Come joyously to guide me there? 



VII. 



While thus my fancy fain had shaped 

The bright dawn of an endless day, 
A saint-like figure darkly-draped 

In silence enter'd where I lay; 
An angel seem'd she whose sad way, 

Self-sought where blew war's deadhest breath, 
Oft led where, sweet as cheering ray, 

She smooth'd the dreary path of death. 

VIII. 

I gazed, and on me flash'd the light 

Of those bright eyes I deemed divine! 
A death-like pallor — marble- white, 

Crept o'er each feature's fixed line. 
Then sank she in those arms of mine, 

So pale, so pure, so calmly fair, — 
All perfect beauty seemed to shine 

In soft angelic sorrow there! 



56 THE SOUrn-^ON CAVALIER. 

IX. 

Anon she spoke in wild surprise, — 

Now joy would flush her pallid cheek, — 
Now tears would dim her kindling eyes 

And tell the grief no tongue could speak. 
Anon she conversed calm and meek, 

And oft our mutual sorrow broke, 
Till brightly as a dawning streak 

A subtle, hopeful scheme she spoke. 

X. 

She bade me wrap me in her cloak, 

And, fearless, forth to freedom go, 
And so disguised escape the stroke 

Of fate's last sad imj^ending blow ; 
While she, assured that none would know 

Until all danger I had passed, 
"Would stay for me and gladly show 

That love triumphant is at last. 

XI. 

Brief words, — tear-moving, fond farewells 

Half-breath'd when hojje to being springs 
Mark m'oments that forever dwells 

Bright in the mind's rememberings. 
Fears, hopes and joys, a thousand things, 

Seemed centred in the strange event ; 
I moved as if on airy wings 

As jpast the serried lines I went. 



TFIE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 



57 



XII. 

But peace went with me, and I sought 

Fah' freedom where the banners rolled 
O'er armies that for freedom fought 

Beneath that bright flag's starry fold 
Whose blended crimson, blue and gold, 

Seemed to my wistful, hopeful eyes 
Fair as the radiant bow of old 

That promised earth serener skies. 

XIII. 

And Clara came, and joj^ was there, 

While love and freedom unconfined 
Glowed as the sunlight beaming fair 

On some shrunk plant of tender kind 
That feals through all its sickly rind 

The influence of the genial glow ; 
So flood-like on my ravish d miud 

Joy bauish'd all my former woe. 

XIV. 

And care and sorrow fled away 

As if their presence ne'er had b^e i 
My sole companions night and day 

Through mauy a ciia.ige oi cii.ne ,iad s 
O bright the heavens shine serene 

When stormy tempests wraJi have pas.-; 
But blighter t is when hope has .sed 

A full fruition come at last. 



58 THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 

XV. 

And glad tlie welcome we received 

At that calm Pennsylvanian vale, 
Where dwelt the friend whose aid relieved 

My sorrow when misfortune's gale 
Had tossed me as a shatter'd sail 

By sudden tempests rudely blown, 
When wearied mariners gladly hail 

The shelter of a shore unknown. 

XVI. 

There dwell we happy and serene 

By summer woods and babbling streams, 
The woodlands clad in leafy green. 

The waters glistening in the gleams 
Of brightest iridescent beams. 

So fair, so grand seems earth and air 
-Surpassing all fond fanc^^'s dreams, 

For love, bright love breathes ev'rywhere. 

XVII. 

At dawn, — soon as the ros}^ hue 

Of morning streaks the azare hills, 
We wander forth while spangling dew 

Gleams on the golden daffodils ; 
Where sweet the flower}^ meadow fills 

Fresh incense to the new-born day, 
While softly to the murmuring lills 

The song-bird sings his matin l^y. 



THE SOUTHRON CAVALIER. 



59 



XVIII. 

When bright the sun shines overhead 

AVe linger where the cedar trees 
Their dark umbrageous shadows spread, 

While blending with the whispering breeze, 
The song of birds, the hum of bees. 

The ceaseless rush of tiny wings 
Harmonious ring like melodies 

That dwell in rapt rememberings. 

XIX. 

At evening when the silver moon 

Bathes hill and vale in liquid white, 
And stars shine as in skies of June 

That seem scarce conscious of the night, 
We sit enraptured with the sight. 

Our fancies fed on thoughts sublime, 
And drink the joys of pure delight 

In golden hours in happy clime. 

XX. 

Nor deem we in our blissful state, 

While speed these summer days away, 
That changing time or froward fate 

Can mar our joys with dull decay; 
But love's links woven day by day 

Shine bright through years that are to be. 
So Hymen gilds with golden ray 

Our 23ath through fair futurity. 



SONGS 



THE BONMIE LASS THAT'S FAR AWA\ 63 



THE BONNIE LASS THAT'S FAR AWA'. 

I. 

She's far awa' that won my heart, 

The lassie wi' the glancing een ; 
Nor Nature's wark, nor mortal's airt, 

Can bring me aught sae rare I ween; 
Por though the seas row deep between, 

An' lanely looks baith house an' ha', 
Fond recollection aye keeps green 

The bonnie lass that's far awa'. 

II. 

•Or if at times frae mem'ry's e'e 

She fades as gloaming fades to night, 
Tf but some winsome lass I see, 

A¥i' jimpy Avaist an' een that's bright, 
My heart gaes fluttering at the sight, 

An' staps the breath I'm gaun to draw, 
While fancy paints in glowing light 

The bonnie lass that's far awa'. 



64 CAM YE OWRE THE FULTON FERRY ? 

III. 
Glide by, ye weary winter days ; 

Glide by, ye nights sae lang an' drear; 
How swiftly sped time's gowden rays, 

When Simmer's sang an' love were here. 
Then come, sweet Spring, revive the year, 

Bring verdure to the leafless shaw, 
An' bring the lass that I lo'e dear — 

The bonnie lass that's far awa'. 



CAM YE OWRE THE FULTON FEERY? 

I. 
Cam ye owre the Fulton Ferry'? 

Heard ye pipers bravely blaw? 
Saw ye clansmen blythe an' merry 

In the Caledonian Ha' '? 
A' their siller brooches glancing, 

A' their tartan waving green, 
A' their glorious mirth an' dancing, 

Were na match to bonnie Jean. 



CJM YE OIVA'E THE FULTON FERRY: 



65 



II. 

Ilka lad was glow'rin at her, — 

Vow but moiiy ane was fain ; 
Pawky rogues forgot to flatter, 

Wishing Jeanie were their ain. 
When she spak they stood an' wonder'd, 

As when subjects hear a queen; 
Lasses too were maist dumfounder'd 

A' the lads were after Jean. 

III. 
Lang they've wrought on j^lans for bringing 

A' the bodies to the ha' ; 
Some would come to hear the singing, 

Some to see a friend or twa. 
A' their schemes hae seen conclusion, 

They may rest content I ween; 
Fowk gae thrangin by the thousan' 

Just to look at bonnie Jean. 



66 O MARY, DO YE MIND THE DAY? 



O MARY, DO YE MIND THE DAY? 

I. 
O Mary, do ye mind the day 

When we were daffin on the green? 
Sae sweet an' couthie's ye did say 

Y^our gentle heart was gien to nane. 
The opening bloom o' seventeen, 

Like violet begun to blaw, 
Grac'd ilka charm, when saft at een 

Ye bade me bide a year or twa. 

II. 
An' years liae pass'd, sweet lass, sin' syne- 

Lang years upon life's stormy sea. 
But bright an' brighter aye ye shine 

The beacon light o' memory's e'e; 
An' aye my thoughts flee back to thee, 

Like swallows wing'd frae far awa' ; 
An' aye I mind j^e said to me, 

"O laddie, bide a year or twa." 



THE LASSIE'S SONG. 



67 



III. 

Then, lassie, come wi' a' thy charms, 

I wat I'm wearied o' mysel' ; 
I'll clasp thee in my longing arms, 

An' aye thegither we will dwell. 
O gar my heart wi' rapture swell, 

O dinna, dinna say me na, 
For brawly do ye mind yoursel' 

Ye bade me bide a year or twa. 



THE LASSIE'S SONG. 

I. 
Now simmer deeds the groves in green, 

An' decks the flow'ry brae ; 
An' fain I'd wander out at e'en, 

But out I daurna gae. 
For there's a laddie down the gate 

Wha's like a ghaist to me ; 
An' gin I meet him air or late, 

He winna lat me be. 



^8 THE LASSIE'S SONG. 



II. 
He glow'rs like ony silly gowk, 

He ca's me heavenly fair ; 
I bid him look like ither fowk, 

An' fash me sae nae mair. 
I ca' him coof an' hav'rel too, 

An' frown wi' scornfu' e'e ; 
But a' I sa}^ or a' I do, 

He winna lat me be. 

III. 

My cousin Kate she flytes me sair. 

An' says I yet may rue ; 
She rooses aye his yellow hair 

And een o' bonnie blue. 
Quo' she, "If e'er ye want a man, 

Juist bid him wait a wee." 
I think I'll hae to tak' her plan — 

He winna lat me be. 



MARY WP THE GOWDEN HAIR. 69 



MAKY WI' THE GOWDEN HAIR. 

I. 
Mary wi' the gowden hair, 

Bonnie Mary, gentle Mary ; 
O but ye are sweet an' fair. 

My winsome, charming Mary. 
Your een are like the starnies clear, 
Your cheeks like blossoms o' the brier. 
An' O your voice is sweet to hear, 

My ain, my bonnie dearie. 

II. 
But dearer than your bonnie face, 

Bonnie Mary, gentle Maiy, 
Or a' your beauty's bloom an' grace, 

My winsome, charming Mary, 
Is ilka motion, void o' airt, 
That lends a grace to ilka pairt, 
An' captivates ilk manly heait, 

Wi' love for thee, my dearie. 



JO BONNIE NORANSIDE. 



III. 

But Mary, lassie, tak' advice, 

Bonnie Mary, gentle Mary; 

Be mair than guid, braw lass, — be wise, 
My winsome, charming Mary, 

An' gie your heart to ane that's true, 

Wha'll live to love nae ane but you; 

An' blythe you'll be an' never rue, 
My ain, my bonnie dearie. 



BONNIE NOKANSIDE. 

I. 

When joyfu' June wi' gladsome grace 

Comes deck'd wi' blossoms fair, 
An' twines round Nature's bonnie face 

Her garlands rich and rare, 
How swift my fancy wings awa' 

Out owre 3^on foaming tide, 
And fondly paints each leafy shaw 

On bonnie Noranside ! 



BONNIE NORANSIDE. 



71 



IT. 



O sweetly there the wild flow'rs spring 

Beside the gowany lea! 
O blythely there the wild birds sing 

On ilka bush and tree! 
While purple hills an' valleys green, 

Array 'd in Simroer's pride, 
Spread lavish to the longing een 

By bonnie Noranside. 



III. 



The gay laburnum waves its crest 

Abune the crystal stream; 
The lily opes its snawy breast 

To catch the gowden gleam; 
The stately firs their arms extend 

In shady coverts wide, 
Where a' the charms o' Nature blend, 

By bonnie Noranside. 

IV. 

Ye Powers wha shape our varied track 

On life's uncertain sea. 
As bright there comes in fancy back 

Youth's fairy scenes to me, 
Sae bring me back, I fondly pray. 

To where my auld friends bide, 
To spend ae lee lang simmer's day 

By bonnie Noranside. 



CHARACTER SKETCHES, ETC. 



TAM ANDERSON. 75 



TAM ANDEKSON. 

Tarn Anderson was an apprentice loun 

Wha sair'd his time in Dundee, 
The lichtsomest lads ye could meet i' the toun 

Were feint a bit blyther than he. 
An' he has gaen north out-owre the hill 

To dance his New Year's reel, 
An' through the deep snaw he's wander'd awa', 

For Tarn was a lang-leggit chieL 

An' Tam had a lass that lived i' the North, 

An' a canty auld mither forby, 
As kind an auld bodie 's e'er lived on the earth. 

An' Tam was her pride an' her joy. 
An' lang they had look'd for the blythesome new year, 

An' counted the days ere they cam, 
For blythe was the thought o' the joy to be brought 

Wi' the grand hame-coming o' Tam. 



TAM ANDERSON. 



The crusie was lighted on Hogmanay night, 

An' hung i' the window sae clear, 
An' the auld mither watch'd by the gleam o' the light 

To see gin her laddie was near. 
An' the lassie that lived at the fit o' the brae, 

Her heart was gaun dunlin I trow. 
As she busk'd hersel' braw in her wincey an' a', 

An' her hair wi' ribbons- o' blue. 

But Tam had just come to the fit o' the glen 

Whaur the yill-house stands a' alane, 
An' there was sic rowth o' young women an' men 

As blythesome as ever were seen ; 
An' Tam being cauld wi' the frost an' the snaw, 

He ventured to look in a wee, 
An' ilk ane cried, " Tam, here man tak' a dram, 

Tam Anderson, drink wi' me." 

The lasses thrang'd round, for they likit Tam weel, 

A braw strappin lad was he, 
Till Tarn's frozen shanks grew souple 's an eel. 

An' his head grew light as a bee ; 
Till rantin wi' this ane, an' drinking wi' that. 

An' laughing an' dancing wi' glee. 
He thought nae a hair on his mither nae mair 

Nor the lass wi' the bonnie blue e'e. 



TAM ANDERSON. 77 



His mitlier sat late, his mither sat lang, 

An' waefu' forebodings liad she, — 
O whaur was her laddie ? — O surely some wrang 

Had keepit him yet in Dundee. 
An' the lassie she sat by the fire alane, 

As dowie as dowie could be ; 
Ilk sough o' the blast sae eerie blew past, 

But brought na the joy o' her e'e. 

Sae the auld year pass'd amid frolic an' din, 

Whaur Tarn was the king o' the core : 
As sune as the breath o' the new year cam in 

The youngsters made aif to the door ; 
An' some wad gae here, an' some wad gae there, 

To ca' on their neibors sae crouse, 
But Tam he set aff wi' the help o' his staff 

To seek for his mither's bit house. 

But whaur he had wander'd there's nae ane can tell, 

He paidlet through thick an' through thin ; 
But ere it was morning he cam to himsel' 

AVi' a plash owre the lugs i' the linn. 
His hands were a' scarted, his coat was a' spoiled 

Wi' mony a rive an' a tear, 
His teeth chatter'd grim, ye'd hae hardly kenn'd him. 

An' the tangles hung stiff on his hair. 



-78 TAM ANDERSON. 



In this waef Li' like pliglit like a warlock he cam 

An rapp'd at his auld mither's door ; 
The mither gaed running an' crying "Here's Tarn! " 

An' then loot a terrible roar. 
She swarf'd clean awa' as gin she was dead, 

Till Tarn took her up on his knee, 
An' he brought her round frae her terrible stound, 

Crying " Mither, O mither, it s me ! " 

"Preserve's!" cried the mither, "O Tarn, is that you? 

O sirs ! bnt ye 've gien me a fright ; 
My poor cauldrife laddie, my ain dawtie doo, 

O whaur liae ye been a' the night ? 
Let me lay your claes by, O Tammy, my man, 

Tak' aff your stockings an' shoon ; 
Lie doun for a wee, an' lat sleep close your e'e ; 

O me but you 're daidlet an' dune ! " 

An' glad was poor Tarn to get rest to his shanks, 

An' sleep to his drumlie e'e ; 
Por wi' ranting an' drinking an' playing his pranks, 

It's unco forfouchten was he. 
An' he bade his mither to wauken him up 

As sune as he'd haen a bit nap ; 
An' «he put a het pan to his feet — poor man : 

An' he sune was as soun' as a tap. 



TAM ANDERSON. 



79 



The neebors ca'd in wi' the scraigh o' the day, 

An' speer'd if young Tammas had come ; 
The mither gaed cannie to whaur Tammie lay, 

But Tarn was baith deaf and dumb. 
She cowpit him owre, she sang in his lug, 

She kittled the soles o' his feet, 
But he slept as serene as though he had been 

Streik't out in his winding sheet. 

Wi' pleasure an' sport a' the kintra through, 

The auld an" the young were right keen 
But Tam's mither watch'd like a sentinel truj, 

While Tam never open'd his een ; 
Till just as the gloamin was wearing to night 

Some lads frae the neighboring toun 
Ca'd in wi' a dram, an' up loupit Tam, 

Array'd in his mither's night-gown. 

Dumfounder'd he glower'd like a throwither chiel, 

While ilka ane laugh'd at the sight ; 
An the piper he screwed up his drones for a reel, 

An' struck up a lilt wi' might. 
Tam chirkit his teeth, an' he danc'd wi' sj^ite. 

An' he knockit the piper right doun ; 
An' as ilka ane made for the door an' fled, 

Tam swore like an English dragoon. 



So DONALD FRASER, 



How he 'greed wi' his mither, what vows had been heard 

By the lass wi' the bonnie blue e e ; 
What grand resolutions the lad had declared, 

It maks-na to you or to me. 
But the truth to be learnd frae lessons like Tarn's 

Might be sung in a measure sublime : 
At duty strive mair, count pleasure a snare, 

An' joys they will come in their time. 



DONALD FEASEE. 

Ambition aften leads a chield 

To unco slips and errors, 
Whaur, grim as ony battlefield, 

He meets wi' mony terrors. 
An' sairly mourn the luckless fate 

That met him ere he kent it, 
Forgetting that he sought sic gate, 

Nor wadna be contented. 



DONALD FRASER. 8 1 



Poor Donald, yet I mind him weel, 

That time when, bauld as Hector, 
He fancied till himsel', poor chiel, 

He'd like to gie a lecture ; 
An' logically showed that mist 

Aft dims a sunny radiance, 
An' vow'd the only thing he wiss'd 

AVas juist a list'ning audience. 

Now Donald was uae dosent gowk, 

Tho' juist a wee conceited. 
He understood the ways o' fowk, 

An' kittle points debated. 
Wi' hair unkamed an' een ablaze, 

He was a moral study ; 
He didna even wear his claes 

Like ony common bodie. 

Some prentice louns, fu" fond o' fun, 

Soon laid their heads thegither. 
To bring to light that darkend sun — 

Nor did they halt nor swither, 
But hired a ha" : an" through the toun 

Wi" muckle praise they heez'd him, 
An' in the papers up an" doun 

Fu' grand they adverteesed him. 



DONALD ERASER. 



An' hermit-like poor Fraser then 

Kept close within his cloister, 
As kittle's ony clocking hen, 

As close as ony oyster. 
Whiles through the kej^-hole fowk would keek 

In eager expectation, 
An' see him stamp, an' hear him speak 

In fiery declamation. 

Some said when rapt in lofty mood 

He utter'd awfu' sayin's. 
That blanch'd the cheek, an' chill'd the blood, 

An' flegg'd the verra weans. 
It looked as if he seemed to scan 

Some elemental brewin' — 
.Some dark wrang waft in Nature's plan. 

An' then the crash o' ruin. 

Poor chield! he little kenn'd the end 

O' a' his preparation, 
How first his heart gied sic a stend 

An' then took palpitation. 
How choked his voice, tho', truth to tell, 

He'd chow'd some sugar-candie ; 
Forby he'd fortified himsel' 

Wi' twa r three nips o' brandy. 



DONALD FRASER. 85 



But deil-ma-care, as. soon's he saw 

The thrang o' glow'rin faces, 
His wits an' courage fled awa', 

An' terror took their places. 
His chattering teeth an' trembling legs 

Were automatic wonder; 
An' then a shower o' rotten eggs • 

Crashed round his lugs like thunder. 

In fury first he tore his hair ; 

Then gaped his mou to mutter; 
But some ane choked his wild despair 

Wi' half a-pound o' butter ; 
Then wild he sprauchled round the stage 

Like ony Jockie-blindy ; 
Then dash'd his head in frantic rage 

Out through the big ha" window. 

Now lat ilk honest man tak' tent, 

An' heedna vain ambition; 
But try an' dwall at hame content, 

An' mind his ain condition. 
Should love o' glory lure ye on, 

Like Hannibal or Caesar, 
O I for a moment think upon 

The doom o' Donald Eraser. 



84 THE DROUKIT PEDDLER. 



THE DEOUKIT PEDDLEE. 

Ken ye ought o' Wat the peddler"? 

Vow, but he's a graceless vaig ; 
Sic a waefu' wanworth meddler 

Weel deserves a hankit craig. 

Mony ane he's sair tormented, 
Driven women's heads agee. 

Till their dreams wi' Wat are haunted. 
Peddling wi" his puckle tea. 

Ilka ane wi' spite he stounds aye, 

Aft their doors they'll tightly lock;. 

Wat, regairdless, goes his rounds aye, 
Eeglar as an aucht-day clock. 

Fient the rap afore he enters. 

Slap the door gangs to the wa', 

Bauldly in the villain ventures, 
Peddler, paper-pocks, an' a'. 



THE DROUKIT PEDDLER. 85 



But the foot o' rude intrusion 

Wanders whiles to sorrow's schule : 

And the hand o' retribution 

Wrought the peddler niuckle dule. 

Jean Macraw, that carefu' creature, 

Cleans her house with fashions fyke. 

Night and day — it is her nature — 
Working aye as hard 's ye like.. 

Now, the chairs and stools she 's drilling- 
Ben the house in rankit raw : 

Now she's prappit near the ceiling, 
Straikin whitening on the wa'. 

Little thought she, worthy woman — 
Busy wi' her mixture het — 

O' the waefu' peddler comin', 

Or the droukin he would get. 

In he bang'd, the whitening whummlet 
Wi' a sclutter owre his skull : 

Backlin's headlang doun he tummlet — 
Buller'd maist like ony bull. 

Dazed was he an' fairly doitit, 

Rack'd wi' anguish o' despair, 

Sprauchled up, then owre he cloitit, 
Cowpit catmaw doun the stair. 



86 THE INVENTOR. 



Auld an' young in tumult gather'd, 

Jeannie danc'd an' craw'd fu' crouse. 

Wives delighted, blythely blather 'd, 

Roars o' laughter shook the house. 

Wat, puii- chield — nane did lament him — 
Clear'd his een and sought the road. 

Aif an' never look'd ahint him, 
Einnin like a hunted tod. 



THE INVENTOE. 

A' ye wha re to invention gien, 
Wha work, like moudywarts, unseen 
To bring to light some new machine — 

Ye men o' worth, 
Your handiwark 's no worth a preen 

Frae this henceforth. 

A chield has come o' wondrous sleight, 
Whase cunning hand and deep insight 
Dispels ilk film that dims the flight 

O fancy's ray, 
Like vapors fleeting at the light 

O' dawning day. 



THE INVENTOR. gy 



I doubtna some will sneer an' snarl 
To hear that ae auld-farrant carl 
Has flash'd like ony pouther barrel, 

An' shown himsel' 
Throughout the hale mechanic warl' 

He bears the bell. 

O could you see him in his glory — 
A sma' room in an upper storey — 
His rev'rend pow like winter, hoary — 

His kindling een, 
An' hear the deep mysterious story 

O' ilk machine. 

Some work wi' banks that shog or swing, 
Some rin wi' weights that wag or hing, 
Some hum like bees, some wi' a spring 

Come thuddin roun', 
Some whirr like pai tricks on the wing 

Wi' rattling soun'. 

An' then what countless ends an' uses — 
What wonner-wark ilk thing produces — 
There's souters' awls an' tailors' guses 

That work their lane. 
An' rams for dingin doun auld houses 

O' brick or stane. 



S8 THE INVENTOR. 



What polish'd cranks ! what grand confusion I 

Like some fantastic wild illusion; 

What cantrip skill ! what rowth o' fusion, 

That mak's nae fyke 
To hoist tons by the hunder thousan', 

As heigh 's ye like ! 

Forby, what wrangs his skill 's been right'ning ! 
Nae boilers now exploding, fright'ning ; 
His patent streaks o' harness'd lightning 

Does a' the wark — 
Our comfort and our power he 's height'ning 

Out owre the mark. 

O grant him soon a noble pension, 
And joy beyond a' comprehension ; 
And may the tither new invention 

Expand his fame, 
Till fowk in rapture blythely mention 

The bodie's name. 



THE QUOIT-FLAYERS. 89 



THE QUOIT-PLAYERS. 

What unco cliances whiles will fa' 

To ony human creature ; 
How, kick'd about like fortune's ba'. 

We prove our fickle nature. 
While ane will mourn wi' tearfu' e'e 

Some dule right unexpeckit, 
Anither big wi' joy we '11 see 

As bright as ony cricket. 

Ae time I mind, when joyfn' June 

Had brought the wand'ring swallows, 
An' sweet ilk feather'd songster's tune 

Rang through the leafy hallows ; 
An' Nature wore her richest grace. 

For flow'rs and blossoms mony 
Were scatter' d owre earth's smiling face, 

An' a' was blythe an' bonnie. 



90 ^ THE QUOIT-PLAYERS. 



An' tlirangiii frae the neib'rin toun 

Cam mony a cheery carl, 
As crouse as claimants for a crown 

They look'd for a' the warl'. 
There mony a weel-skill'd curling skip 

Cam wi' his quoits provided : 
For there, that day, the championship 

Was g-ann to be decided. 

An" motts were placed, an' pair an' pair 

The}^ stript them for the battle. 
An' sane the quoits glanc'd through the air, 

An' rang the tither rattle. 
An' sudden shouts and loud guffaws 

Cam thick an' thrang thegither. 
Confused as ony flock o' craws 

Foreboding windy w^eather. 

An' some keep pitching lang an' dour, 

Weel-match'd an' teuch 's the widdie; 
While ithers canna stand the stour, 

But knuckle doun fu' ready. 
An' till 't again the victor's fa' 

Wi' keener, prouder pleasure ; 
While rowth o' joy swells ane an' a' 

Wi' overflowdno- measure. 



THE QUOIT. PLAYERS. 91 

O manly sport in open field, 

Life-kindling recreation ! 
Compared wi' thee what else can yield 

Sic glowing animation ? 
Gin feckless fules wha idly thrang 

To city balls an' theatres, 
Wad tak' to thee they 'd grow sae strang 

They 'd look like ither creatures. 

But see they 've feckly dune their best. 

An' mony a pech it 's ta'en them. 
Till twa are left to stand the test, 

An' fecht it out atween them : — 
Twa rare auld chaps o' muckle fame, 

I wat they re baith f u' handy ; 
Ane muckle Willie was by name, 

The tither siccar Sandie. 

Now Sandie had an unco kind 

O' silent meditation, — 
A gath'ring in o' heart an' mind, — 

A rapt deliberation ; 
An' nane daur draw a breath while he 

Stood fierce as ony Pagan, 
Till whizz his weel-aim'd quoit wad flee 

Like ony fiery dragon ! 



^2 THE QUOIT- PLAYERS. 

But Willie — open-hearted chiel — 

He never liked to face it, 
Till some tried freend wad cheer him weel, 

An' tell him whaur to place it. 
An' sic a job was just the thing 

That quoiters lik'd to cherish, 
An' loud they gar'd the echoes ring 

Throughout the neib'rin parish. 

An' sair they battled, baith as brave 

As game-cocks fechtin frantic; — 
The tae shot silent as the grave, 

The tither wild 's th' Atlantic. 
An' neck an' neck they ran the race, 

At ithers' heels they rattled, 
Until they reach'd that kittle place — 

The shots that were to settle 't. 

An' sae it was when Sandie stood 

In breathless preparation, 
Some senseless gowk in frenzied mood, 

Owrecome wi' agitation, 
Yell'd out — " O Sandie, steady now ! 

Let 's see you play a ringer ! " 
Distraction rack'd puir Sandie's pow, 

An' skill forsook his finger. 



THE QUOIT-PLAYERS.. 



93 



Awa' the erring quoit gaed skeugh 

Wi' wildly waublin birl, 
An' owre a bare pow, sure aneucli, 

It strak wi' fearfu* dirl; 
A puir newspaper chield it was, 

An' aft the fowk did wyte him 
Por pawning that sad saul o' his 

In scraping up an "item."' 

But fegs, to gie the deil his due, 

For facts should ne'er be slighted, 
At antrin times by chance somehow 

He gar'd the wrang be righted. 
An' sae when that erratic quoit 

Maist fell'd him wi' a tummle, 
Awa' it bounced wi' bev'llin skyte, 

An' on the mott played whummle. 

Confusion seized baith auld an' young, 

Nae uproar could surmount it ; 
Some vowed the quoit was fairly flung. 

Some said they couldna count it. 
The referee owned up at last 

'T was past his comprehension ; 
Quo' he, "Sic unco kittle cast 

Maun bide next year's Convention. ' 



^4 THE QUOIT-PLAYERS. 



Then AVillie aimed ; while some ane, seized 

Wi' wildest quoiting clamor, 
Cries " Willie, raise your quoit, man, raise 't, 

An' strike tliis like a hammer ! 
'T will ding auld Sandie's i' the yird, 

Ne'er let mischance defy you ; 
You '11 win the day yet, tak' my word, 

Gude luck will ne'er gae by you." 

Encouraged, Willie wing'd his quoit 

Fair as a rocket spinning, 
While ilka ane in wild delight 

Were to the far end rinnin ; 
When some rough chield, in reckless speed, 

Trampd on his neibor's corns ; 
When half a dozen heels owre head 

Fell like a pock o' horns. 

The quoit played thud, a murd'rous yell 

Proclaimed a new disaster ; 
Some cried for mercy whaur they fell. 

Some cried for dacklin plaister. 
Ane vowed the quoit had broke his back, 

Twa spak o' waur distresses : 
Anither said he got a whack 

That crack'd a pair o" glasses. 



THE QUOIT.PLAYERS. 



95 



Some gabbled loud, some laugli'd like mad: 

Nae wild discordant rabble 
E'er sic supreme dominion had 

Sin' at the Tower o' Babel. 
But sweet accord cam in at last, 

An' ilka honest billie 
Agreed that medals should be cast 

For Sandie an' for Willie. 

Like royal heroes, hame they cam 

In glorious glee thegither, 
An' pledg'd their friendship owre a dram 

O' punch wi' ane anither. 
But nae like kings wha seldom care 

For chields when they 've mischieved them, 
They baith watch'd weel the sick an' sair, 

Till healing Time relieved them. 

Lang may they thrive, while ilk ane wears 

His honors nobly earn'd; 
Frae persevering pluck like theirs 

A lesson might be learn'd. 
May quoiters' joys be mair an' mair, 

Unvex'd by sorrow's harrows : 
Sic hearty social chaps, I swear, 

I ve never met their marrows. 



96 THE CURLER. 



THE CUKLEE. 

Saw ye e'er a vet'ran curler 

Mourning owre a broken stane^ 

When the game is at the thrangest, 
Ere the hin'most shot is ta'en?"" 

How the past comes up before him, 
Like a gleam o' gowden light ! 

How the present gathers o'er him, 
Like a stormy winter's night ! 

Doun he sits upon his hunkers — 
Lifts the pieces ane by ane ; 

Mourns the day he cam to Yonkers- 
Vows he 's lost a faithfu' frien' ! 

Doun the rink comes Davie Wallace, 

Tears o' pity in his e'e, 
Vex'd an' sad his very saul is, 

Sic a waesome sight to see. 

Weel he kens that throb o' anguish 
Wring the vet'ran's heart in twa 

Davie's feelings never languish — 
Davie kens we re brithers a'. 



THE CURLER. 97 



An' he speaks him kiudly — •' Saunders, 
Weel I wat you "ve fash aneuch ; 

But let grieving gae to Flanders — 
Keep ye aye a calmer sough. 

Stanes will gang to crokonition, 

Hearts should never gang agee ;. 

Plenty mair in fine condition — 

Come an' send them to the tee." 

" AVheesht ! " says Saunders, " dinna mock me- 
Cauld 's the comfort that ye gie : 

Mem'ries gather like to choke me 
When ye speak about the tee. 

Whaur "s the stane I could depend on ? 

Vow my loss is hard to bear! 
Stanes an' besoms 1 11 abandon — 

Quat the curling evermair. 

Weel I mind the day I dress'd it, 

Five-an'-thirty years sin' syne, 
Whaur on Ailsa Craig it rested — 

Proud was I to ca' it mine. 

Owre the sea, stow'd i' the bunkers, 

Carefu' aye I strave to fend, 
Little thinking here at Yonkers 

I would mourn its hinder end. 



98 THE CURLER. 



Saw ye aft how ilk beginner 

Watcli'd it aye wi' envious eye? 

Canny aye it chipp'd the winner — 
Never fail'd to chap an' lie. 

Ne'er ahint the hog-score droopin' — 
Ne'er gaed skitin past the tee; 

Skips ne'er fash'd themsel's wi' soopin 
When they saw my stane an' me."^ 

Round the ither curlers gather, 
Some lament wi' serious face; 

Some insist it 's but a blether — 
Aft they 've seen a harder case. 

Davie lifts the waefu' bodie, 

Leads him aff wi' canny care, 

Brews a bowl o' reekin toddy, 

Bids him drown his sorrows there. 

But his heart is like to brak aye, 
An' he granes the tither grane, 

Gies his head the tither shake aye^ 
Croons a cronach to his stane. 

Sune the toddy starts him hoisin, 
Sune he grows anither chiel — 

Glorious hameward reels rejoicin' 
Wi' his senses in a creel 1 



MAISTER YOUI.'G: AN ELEGY. 



99 



MAISTEK YOUNG: AN ELEGY. 

Oh, gruesome death, what gar'd ye harl 

My auld freend to the ither warl? 

Now when ye 've toom'd life's leaky barrel 

Out to the bung, 
A couthy, leal, kind-hearted carle 

Was Maister Young. 

Ye weel-fed boarders, ane an' a', 
Xiike simmer show'rs let tear-draps fa'; 
The gong hings silent on the wa' 

That aft he rung. 
Wha now will you to dinner ca' 

Like Maister Young? 

He ne'er set doun nae feckless trash, 
Nor soup made he — puir useless plash; 
An' mooly cheese an' rotten hash 

Outside he flung ; 
We got the worth aye o' our cash 

Frae Maister Young. 



lOO ^^A IS TER YO UNG : AN ELEGY. 

At dinner-time when we gaed in, 
Sae cheeiy wi" the plates he 'd rin, ' 
An' brought us corned beef cut thin, 

An' fine shced tongue, 
Forby potatoes i' the skin — 

Wad Maister Young. 

That time when CharHe hurt his knee, 
He was as kind as kind could be. 
Right patient and fu' tenderly 

Round him he hung : 
A better freend we '11 never see 

Than Maister Young. 

When ither fowk wad laugh an' jeer. 

An' thought that we spak braid an' queer, 

He aften said he liked to hear 

Our hameowre tongue ; 
An' aye we likit to sit near 

Aald Maister Young. 

When rows got up about the place. 
An' drucken chields, that had na grace, 
- Wad fecht an' tear themsel's like beas', 

An' roar'd an' sung, 
They cautioned when they saw the face 

O' Maister Young. 



MAISTER YOUNG: AN ELEGY. loi 

Wi' lang-tongued cliields he didna mix, 
Wha fash'd their heads wi' poKtics, 
His hatred at them he did fix 

As stiff's a rung, — 
They got nae credit for their tricks 

Frae Maister Young. 

He 'd aye things right whate'er th' expense, 
An' hated sham an' vain pretence, 
An' though at times 't wad gie offence, 

To truth he clung. 
Regardless o' the consequence. 

Did Maister Young. 

When July comes, if I am spared, 
I '11 journey to the lane kirk-yaird 
"Whaur low he lies, and hae 't declared 

That ilka tongue 
Can read how truth was virtue's guard 

To Maister Young. 



I02 JOHN'S A WA\- A LAMENT. 



JOHN'S av;a': a lament. 

Ayhat sad disaster 's this bef a'n us ? 

What ill wind now is this that 's blawn us 

My heart grows cauld as wintr}^ Janus ; 

Preserve us a ! 
Our noble Chief — our Coriolanus — 

Our John 's awa'. 

As bits o' starnies show their light, 
When ance the sun is out o' sight, 
Sae mony a self-conceited wight 

Now crouse will craw ; 
There 's nane to gie their nebs a dicht 

Sin' John 's awa'. 

Sae skill'd was he in ilka thing, 
That when his argument he 'd bring, 
A' lowse discussion sune took wing, 

As wreaths o' snaw 
Evanish at the voice o' Spring — 

But John 's awa'. 



JOHN'S A WA' : A LAMENT. ,03 



And if at times puir spite was girnin, 

And through the bye-laws some were kirnin, 

His common-sense, like candle burnin', 

Showed clear to a' 
The sterling worth that I am mournin' 

Sin' John 's awa'. 

When to the games the Club would muster, 
An' Yankees wi' their fan an' duster 
Like bees around the ring would cluster 

In monj^ a raw — 
He was our centre-piece — our lustre — 

But John "s awa'. 

When mauchtless athletes whiles would grudge, 
An' gied our Chief a sly bit nudge, 
To favor them he wadna budge 

His mind a straw; 
He was a siccar weel-skilled judge — 

But John 's awa'. 

Sae wise was his administration, 
Fu' weel I saw our situation, 
An' sair I press'd his nomination. 

But he said na : 
He 'd haen aneuch o' exaltation — 

Now John's awa'. 



104 LANG PETER. 



O Fortune, but 3^ou 're sair to blame, 
That raised our Club to muckle fame, 
Then, like ane wauken'd frae a dream, 

A change we saw ; — 
We 've tint the best half o' our name 

Sin' John 's awa'. 



LANG PETER. 

Liang Peter was an unco loun, 

A queer catwittit creature ; 
An' nought could j)lease him up or doun, 

But rinnin to the theatre. 
He bore his mither's wild tirwirrs, 

For sad an' sair it rack'd her. 
To think that weel-born bairn o' hers 

Would turn a waugh play-actor. 

But Peter wadna hand nor bind. 

But lived in firm adherence 
That some grand chance some day would find 

His lang-look'd-for appearance; 
And whyles he gaed to sic a height 

Wi' Shakespeare's grand creations, 
That fowk were deav'd baith day an' night 

Wi' skelps o' recitations. 



LANG PETER. 105 



An' sae it chanced, an orra rake 

Aft gripp'd in want's cauld clutches, 
Though like a Jew, aye on the make 

In ilka thing he touches. 
Had fa'n upon an unco ploy — 

Puir chield, an unco pity — 
To i)lay the drama o' " Rob Eoy " 

Owreby in Brooklyn City. 

Frae far an' near the show fowk cam, 

Puir hungry-looking villains. 
An' some would play juist for a dram, 

An' some for twa 'r three shillings ; 
But Peter sought nae baser kind 

O' monetary clauses. 
But offered free his heart an" mind. 

In hopes to win aj)plauses. 

And had ye seen him on that night 

Wlien on the stage thegither, 
I wat he was a gallant sight 

For marching through the heather; 
Wi' tartan kilt an' braid claymore, 

An' buckles glancing rarely, 
Xiike chieftains i' the days o' yore 

That fought for Royal Charlie. 



Io6 LANG PETER. 



But how can e'er my muse rehearse 

The sad, the sair misfortune, 
Or paint that sight in modest verse, 

How when they raised the curtain, 
A chield stood winding uj) the claith 

Like playing on hurdy-gurdies. 
An' in rowed Peter's tartan graith, 

An' hung him by the hurdies! 

A yell broke frae th' astonished crowd, 

The very sky it rent it ; 
Some glaiket lassies skirl'd fu' loud, 

An' ithers near-hand fainted. 
Puii" Peter squirmed, an' lap an' sprang. 

Just like a new-catch'd haddock. 
An' kick d his heels wi' fearfu' spang 

Amaist like ony puddock. 

Some tried to free him frae his plight. 

They cam but little speed o' 't, 
Ane broke the handle in his might, 

Juist when they maist had need o' 't. 
A chield grown desp'rate i' the case 

Shut aff the big gas meter. 
An" brought thick darkness owre the place 

An' some relief to Peter. 



JOCK WABSTER. 107 



Daft gowk! he minds his mither now 

His stage career is ended; 
An' may ilk foolish prank, I trow, 

Thus be at first suspended. 
Ye youths wha court the public e'e 

Keep back in canny clearance, 
Or some disaster ye may dree 

Like Peter's first appearance. 



JOCK WABSTER. 

Jock Wabster, o' Girvan, cam owre here to bide. 

But he cared na for ferlies a flee ; 
But to hear a' the preachers — O that was his pride,. 

For an unco douce body was he. 
A pillar in Zion he 'd been frae his youth, 

An' deep draughts o' doctrine he 'd quaff'd ; 
An' sae schuled he 'd aye been in the real gospel truth,. 

Ye 'd ne'er thought he 'd gae minister-daft. 



lo8 JOCK WABSTER. 



When to Gotham he cam, preserve 's what a steer ! 

Ilk Sabbath, at break o' the dawn, 
He up*ali'*awa' a new preacher to hear, 

Whaur gowjDens o logic were sawn. 
Three times i' the day, and af tentimes four, 

He listen'd to clerical craft. 
Till at last his een had sic an unco like giow'r, 

You could see he was minister-daft. 

To Beecher he gaed, wha vowed that the deil 

Was nought but some auld-warld blether ! 
To Talmage he tramp'd, wha proved juist as weel 

Fowk were a' gaun to Satan thegither ! 
Then Ormiston showed how the foreordained few 

Were the only true heavenly graft. 
Jock couldna see how a' their theories were true. 

Although he was minister. daft. 

ThenFrothingham showed him-that lang-headed chap- 
How fowk were maist gomcrals a' ; 

How priests an' how clergy juist baited a trap 
To lead puir silly bodies awa' ; 

How creeds an' how kirks an' a' siccan gear 
Were as frail as an auld rotten raft. 

Some fowk may dispute it, but ae thing was clear, 
Jock Wabster was minister-daft ! 



JOCK IVABSTER. 109 



Still he tramp'd an' he trudg'd, an' hearken'd an' stared, 

Till at last, on a day it befel, 
He heard a Scotch ranter, wha bauldly declared 

He had Heaven juist a" to himsel' ! 
Wliaur he an' his half-dizzen bodies would bide^ 

In spite o' the deevil's wrang waft. 
While the brunstane consumed a' the earth in its pride. 

No forgetting the minister-daft. 

How he stampit and reeng'd amang lions an' lambs ! 

An beasts wi' big horns an' a' ! 
An' he-goats, an' dragons, an' deevils, an' rams, 

An' cantrips cuist ujd in a raw ! 
But the upshot was this, that Jock he thought shame ; 

Now doucely he plies his ain craft. 
An' on Sabbaths he reads owre the gude book at hame ; 

So he 's nae langer minister-daft. 



I lo THE MA TCH-MAKING L UCKIE. 



THE MATCH-MAKING LUCKIE. 

I kent a Scotch wife fat an' crouse 

As ony weel-fed cliuckie ; 
An' social mirth aft graced the house 

O' that auld, canty Luckie ; 
An' foul or fair, or late or air, 

In spite o' wind and weather, 
This Luckie still worked wi' a will 

To bring young fowk thegither. 

An' whiles 't was parties at her house^ 

An' whiles 't was singing classes ; 
An' whiles 't was dancings blithe an' crouse 

Amang the lads an' lasses. 
The blatest pair that entered there 

They never could dishearten her; 
The blate . and cauld grew blithe and bauld,. 

An' learned to kiss their partner. 



THE MATCH-MAKING LUCKIE. 



When first we met, "My lad,'' quo' slie, 

" We 've lasses braw an' plenty ; 
Tak' tent an' lea' yersel' wi' me, 

I 'm sure you 're twa an'-twenty ; 
An' time it is ye kenn'd what t was 

To taste conjugal blisses — 
To liae a wife to cheer your life 

Wi' rowth o' sappy kisses." 

'Quo' I, "Auld Luckie, bide at hame, 

An' mind your man an' bairns ; 
•Gude faith, they say, ye might think shame 

O' some o' your concerns. 
There 's bonnie Sam, an' dancing Tarn, 

Ye pledg'd them clever kimmers — 
They see owre late their waefu' fate, 

They've baith got lazy limmers.' 

•She stamp'd, she raised her open loof, 

She vow'd by a' that 's holy, 
Her happy matches aye were proof 

'Gainst care an' melancholy. 
^'There's some," quo' she, "that's come to me 

As thrawn as cankert littlins, 
Now ye can kythe them sweet an' blithe 

As ony pair o' kittlins." 



1 1 2 THE MA TCH-MAKING LUC AVE. 



She held her faith, she preach'd her creed 

Wi' apostoHc ardor. 
An' aje the man* that she cam speed 

She jDlayed her cards the harder. 
Some scoffers thought that she was nought 

But some auld devil's-buckie ; 
But priests in black fu' sweetly spak 

That grand match-making Luckie. 

At last, O sirs, she chang'd her craw, 

That aft had welcom'd mony ; 
An' now 't was " Lasses, bide awa' 

Frae my ain laddie, Johnnie : 
Nor giowr an' gape, nor set your cap 

For my wee bonnie Tammie ; 
The blind might see, as lang "s tbey 've me. 

They'll aye bide wi' their mammie." 

But Jock and Tam, as quick 's a shot. 

They settled up the matter ; 
They married, an' sic jades they got — 

The least that 's said the better. 
Puir Luckie swat, puir Luckie grat. 

An' pale she grew, an" thinner : 
An' lang she blabb'd, an' aft she sabb d. 

Like ony startled sinner. 



THE MATCH-MAKING LUCKIE. 



^'3 



Now friends tak tent an' keep aloof 

Frae a' sic intermeddling, 
Nae gude can come aneath ane's roof 

Wi' dancing and wi' fiddling. 
An' smacks galore aliint the door, 

"Whatever be their nature. 
May turn as dowff as Luckie's howff. 

That auld match-makino* creature. 



An' ye whase rosy lips are lit 

By youth's fires blithe an' bonnie, 
O walk ye aye wi' tentie fit — 

Life's dabs are deep an' mony. 
Your sweet desires, true love's fond fires 

Keep close as ony buckie ; 
An' aye bide back, nor counsel tak' 

Frae nae match-making Luckie. 



114 ^'<^ ^^'- ^- ^'■- AX EPISTLE. 



TO W. B. S. : AN EPISTLE. 

I 've sometimes thought, lolain truth to tell, 
I might sing something o' mj'sel' ; 
But Modesty, that meek-faced dame, 
Insists I daurna do 't for shame. 
But to a friend, — a man like you — 
If ye could look me through and through, 
I think, for a' that you could see. 
You wadna think nae less o' me, 
Than aft you "ve said in warmest phrase 
Kind in the light o' ither days. 

Yet muckle confidence I hae 
To write j^ou or to speak you sae. 
I 'm tauld you 're speelin up the height 
Whaur Fortune sits in glowing light, 
An' deals her gifts o' gowden hue 
In plenty to the favor'd few ; 
An' Rumor has 't we '11 shortly see 
A Mayor or Congressman you '11 be. 
Gude kens, if a' they, say be true. 
There 's room for honest men like you : 
An may Corruption's black disgrace 
Aye shrink afore your manly face. 
An' lang may Honor gild your name 
An' honest worth expand your fame. 



TO IV. B. S. : AN EPISTLE. 



For me I 'm juist about 's you "ve seen 
Sin' twal year now hae rowed between 
Sin' first in free Columbia's laud 
We took ilk ither by the hand ; 
An' though stern Labor's high demands 
Leaves little but the horny hands, 
I dinna look far round to see 
There 's mony mair waur aft' than me. 
An' when the gloamin spreads her wings, 
An' silence like a mantle hinsfs, 
Then Fancj^ paints in living light 
Fond Memory's treasures rare an' bright, 
An' spreads before my mental een 
The bonniest blinks my days have seen ; 
An" Nature's charms an' social glee 
Shines back in mirrored joy to me. 
Or when raj)t in my cosy nook 
I pore owre some delightful book. 
I seem to dwell in happy climes, 
Fresh as immortal poets' rhymes. 
An' wish nae joy in mair galore 
This side o' that eternal shore, 
Whaur surely some blythe nook there 11 be 
For sic-like Scots as you an' me. 



Il6 REMARKS ON THE SCOTTISH LANGUAGE. 



REMARKS ON THE SCOTTISH LANGUAGE. 



The Scottish language, according to the best authorities, 
had a common origin with the English, and in addition had a 
large admixture of Gothic words which never passed through 
the Anglo-Saxon. This Gothic element has given it a greater 
durability than the English ; for while the student of English 
literature observes how rapidly Englishmen have altered the 
spelling, changed the sound, and dropped many of the words 
of their forefathers, the Scottish people continue in a great 
measure the primitive language used by their ancestors in its 
native force and beauty. 

The Scottish language has many words purely its own, 
some of which convey an extent and energy of meaning which 
can be but imperfectly expressed in English. Its rustic sim- 
plicity has been admired by the learned as possessing much 
of the natural beauty of the Doric dialect of the Greek ; while 
by its dropping of consonants and broadening the vowel 
sounds, it has been compared in smoothness to the Ionic. It 
surpasses in the description of the humorous or ludicrous, and 
abounds in phrases associated with social or domestic life. 
In lyrical composition, also, no language can supply terms of 
endearment with greater delicacy or tenderness, and hence 
the unrivalled beauty and richness of Scottish song. 

Tiiese remarks are, in brief, the opinion of tbe best philo- 
logists on the subject of the Scottish language ; and as it may 
be of some importance to those who are not conversant with 
the proper pronunciation of the language, the following rules> 
which are usually attached to standard Scottish works, are 
subjoined, and the reader may rest assured that too much 
attention caonot be given to them, as much meaning and 
harmony is lost by their infringement. 



REMARKS ON THE SCOTTISH LANGUAGE. 



117 



a in Scotch words sounds like a in icall, except when 
forming a dipthong, or followed by an e mute after a single 
consonant. 

cli initial sounds soft as in chair ^ otherwise ch and gh sounds 
gh in German. 

d final after n is scarcely ever sounded. 

ed final sounds it in English. 

ea, ei, ie, sounds ee in English. 

in is the general ending of the present and past participle ; 
where ing is used the g is never sounded; in is a modern 
innovation— a corruption of the English — and is permissable 
to accommodate the eye to the absence of the g rhyme, &c. 

ou and oio sounds 00 in English. 

00 and ui sounds eu in French ; this sound is very common 
in Scotch ; sometimes single takes the French sound, as in 
the words to, do, etc. 

owe sounds ow in English. 

In every doubtfal sound, the reader should prefer a broad, 
deliberate articulation. 



GLOSSARY. 



A', all. 

Aboon, above. 

Ae, one. 

Ahint, behind. 

Ain, oun. 

Ailh, oath. 

Air, early. 

Aims, irons. 

Alice, once. 

Ane, one. 

Aiilriu, occassional. 

Ainaist, almost. 

AiiU, old. 

Auld-f arrant, old-fashioned . 

Awa\ away. 

Ba\ ball. 
Ballant, ballad. 
Bnnnin, swearing. 
Banks, beams. 
Bauld, bold. 



Ben, the spence or parlor. 

Beuk. book. 

Bickerin, running. 

Bide, w ait. 

Billie, fellow. 

Birdie, diminutive of bird. 

Bizzin, buzzing. 

Blate, bashful. 

Blatter, to start off suddenly. 

BUnu, blow. 

Blether, foolish talk. 

Blobs, bli-ters. 

Bo die, person. 

Brae, slope of a hill. 

Br aw, fine, gaily dressed. 

Buckie, a sea shell, a fSfractory 

person . 
Buller, a loud noise. 
Biirnie, a streamlet. 
Busk, to dress. 
Byke, a nest or habitation. 



ii8 



GLOSSARY 



Cn\ call. 
Caller, fresh, 
Caniiie, genlly. 
Cantrip, a trick, a spell. 
Canty, lively, cheerful. 
Catvinw, topsy-turvy. 
Caul (I, cold. 
Cauldrife, cold. 
C^arl^ a m in. 
Cativittit, hairbrained. 
Cliaf/s, j.iws. 
C III el, a young man. 
Chirkit. grinding tlie teeth. 
Cho7v, to chew. 
Chiiclcie, a hen. 
Claes, clothes. 
Clct'ds, to clothe. 
Clocking, hatch' ng. 
Cloitet, lo fall or sit down. 
Coof, loul. 
•Core, company. 
C out hie, kind. 
Cowpit, to fall over. 
Craig, I he throat. 
Craw, to crow. 
Crokonition, destruction. 
■Cronach, a mournful song. 
Croon, to sing. 
Croiise, brisk, brave. 
Crusie, a lamp. 

Dacklin, sticking. 
Dajffin, merry. 
Daft, mad. 
Uaurna, durst not. 
Dam He, darling. 
Dearie, a sweetheart. 
Deave, lo annoy. 
Z>6v/, the devil. 
Ding, to overcome. 
Dinna, do not. 
/^/r/. a vihraiion. 
Doitet, confused, 
Dosent, stupid. 
Dour, stubborn. 
Di'zu, dove. 
Douiff melancholy, 
Dozvie, sad 
Droukit, drenched, 
Drucken, drunken. 
Drumlie, muddy, troubled. 



Dub, a standing pool. 
Diunfounded, astonished. 
Dune, done. 
Duntin, beating. 

Een, eyes. 
Eerie, timorous. 

Fae, foe. 

Fash, trouble. 

Fashions, troublesome. 

Fecht, fight. 

Feckless, u-eless. 

Feckly, mostly. 

Fegs, an exclamation of surprise. 

Fient, never. 

Fit, foot. 

Flaffcr, flutter. 

Flee, fly. 

Fleg, to frighten. 

Forhy, besides, 

Forfouchten, fatigued, 

Fowk, folk, 

Frae, from. 

Fu, full. 

Fusion, power. 

Fyke, small work, 

Ga^, to go, 
Galore, plenty. 
Gang, go, 
Gaiin, going. 
Gar, to compel, 

6'a/'^', down i he gate, down the way. 
Gear, goods. 
Gliaist. ghost. 
Gie, give. 
Gin, if, 

Girnin, to cry from ill humor. 
Glint, glance. 
Glaikit, light-headed. 
Gloaniin, evening. 
Glower, lo gaze. 
Gowd. gola. 
Graith, accoutrements. 
Grat, cried. 
Grip, lo take hold of. 
Griusonie, grnn. causing fear. 
Guffaw, hur^t of laughter. 
Gude, good, Sometimes applied to 
the Supreme Being. 



GLOSSARY. 



19 



Ha\ hall. 

Hae, have. 

Ha en, had. 

Hale, whole. 

Haineozvre, rustic, homely. 

Hankit, tightened. 

Harl, to drag roughly. 

Hatid, to hold. 

Havertl, a foolish person, 

Het, hot. 

Heeze, to raise up. 

Heigh, high. 

Howes, valleys. 

Howff, rendezvous. 

Hunkers , haunches. 

Hurdles, the buttocks. 

/', in. 
Ilk, each. 
lika, every. 
Ithcr, other. 

Jockie-blindy, blind-man's buff. 
Jimpy, small. 

Keek, to look into by stealth. 

Ken, to know. 

Kent, known. 

Kitnmer, a young woman. 

Kinira, country. 

Kittle, difficult. 

Kittled, tickled. 

Kittlin, kitten. 

Ktrnin, searching. 

Kythe, to be manifest. 

Lanely, lonely. 

Lang, long. 

Lang-nebbit, long- beaked. 

Lap, to leap. 

Laverock, the lark. 

Lee-lang, live-long. 

Lilts, cheerful songs. 

Limmer, an opprobrious epithet 

applied to a young woman. 
Limi, a cataract. 
Lintie, the linnet. 
Lo^e, love. 
Loof, the open hand. 



Loot, let. 

Loun, applied indifferently to a 

young man. 
Lottpit, leaped. 
Luekie, a designation given to an 

elderly woman. 
Lugs, ears. 

Mauchtless, helpless. 
Maun, must. 
Maunna, must not. ' 
Mony, many. 
Moil, the mouth. 
Moudywarts, moles. 
Muckle, large. 

N'a, no. 

Nae, no. 

Neb, beak or bill. 

Neiik, corner. 

Nick, applied to the devil. 

Nip, a small quantity of anything, 

0\ of. 

Ony, any. 

Orra, useless, supernumerary. 

Owre, over. 

Owreby, over at the other side. 

FaidleAo stir or walk up and down. 

Pawky, cunning. 

Peck, the act of breathing hard. 

Ploy, a frolic. 

Pock, a bag. 

Pow, poll. 

Preen, a pin. 

Puckle, a small quantity. 

Puddock, a frog. 

Rant in, noisy mirth. 
Reekin, smoking. 
Roose, to i^raise. 
Row, to roll. 
Rowth, plenty. 

Sae, so. 

Sair, sore, much. 
Scaith, harm. 
Scar ted, scratched. 



GLOSSAK) 



Sclutler, a splash as of mud. 

Scraig/i, scream. 

Shaiv, a wood. 

Shog, to move from side to side. 

Shoon, shoes. 

Sic, such. 

Siccan, suoii as. 

Siccar, secure. 

Siller, silver. 

Sijt, since. 

Skelps, pieces. 

Skeugh, to move in a slanting 

direction. 
Skirl, to shriek. 
Skreed, a detached piece. 
Skyte, to slip. 

Slacken, to quench the thirst. 
Sma , small. 
Sotigh, a rushing sound. 
Sotiter, a shoemaker. 
Spang, to spring. 
Spak, to speak. 
Speelin, climbing. 
Speer, to ask. 
Spinks, meadow-pinks. 
Splat chcs, a spot as of mud . 
Spraiuhle, to scramble. 
Starnies, small stars. 
Stftr, stir. 
St end, to leap. 
St our, dust. 
Straikin, stroking. 
Slrappiu, tall and handsome. 
StreUit, stretched. 
Sivarf, to fall as in a fit. 
Swat, sweat. 
S^iuther, to doubt. 
Syne, then. 

Tae, one. 

Tangles, icicles. 

Tent, care. 

Tench, tough. 

77/^^, these. 

Thrangin, thronging. 

Throwither, through each other. 



Thuddin, striking. 

Tint, lost. 

Tirr-ivirrs, habitual complaints. 

Tither, the other. 

Tod, the fox. 

Tooni, empty. 

Toivsic, dishevelled. 

Timimle, tumble. 

Tyke, an odd or strange fellow. 

Unco, strange. 

Vaig, a vagrant. 
Ferra, very. 

Fow, an interjection expressive of 
surprise. 

lVa\ wall. 

Wad, would. 

Waefii, woful. 

Waft, the woof in a web. 

IVamuorth, unworthy. 

IVat, wot. 

Waubhn, unsteady action, 

IVaiich, low, immoral. 

IVanken, awake. 

Warlock, wizard. 

Warslm, wrebtling. 

Wean, child. 

Wee, liiile. 

Weel, well. 

Wha, who. 

Whaiir, wliere. 

Wkeesht, hush. 

Wliniumle, turn over. 

]Viddie, a rupe made of twigs. 

ll'mna, will not. 

Wiss, wish. 

^F^rw rtii/rt', passed away. 

Wyte, blame. 

Yeilow-yite, yellow bunting. 
Yenk, iich. 
Yeiikie, iichy. 
>V//, ale. 
K/n/, earth. 



